These Memories Remain
by spicygenou
Summary: How does America keep a smile on his face, even as his people are killed in the streets, as riots break out to defy systemic oppression, as he denies his people rights? Russia is convinced that it's all an act, and he's determined to find the secret to America's naive optimism. But when he learns the odd truth, he's more shocked to find his heart being moved by the troubled nation.
1. Chapter 1

Ivan Braginsky couldn't remember the last time he actually cared to notice what Alfred F. Jones was doing. Of course, as Russia, he always made sure to keep a close eye on America, and his loud antics at every world meeting were impossible to ignore. Still, today Ivan found himself regarding every movement, no matter how insignificant, of the tall, young man as Germany once again took control of the podium.

No one's attention was on the rambling blond nation, except for Italy's of course—no wait, was that a snot bubble? Well, at least he had managed to fall asleep with his face directed at his good friend so as to create the illusion that he was listening. France and England were engaged in some childish shoving contest in their seats, and Ivan was sure it would escalate within minutes. A country he couldn't recognize but that looked quite a lot like the annoying America looked a bit uncomfortable to France's right. His face was further distorted as his twin smacked him on the back, his huge grin parting to shove a greasy burger into his mouth.

"That's it, frog face!" England's "composure" finally broke as he tackled the French nation to the floor.

France laughed, easily rolling free of England's weak hold. He jumped to his feet and put his arm around Canada, whispering something in his ear. Canada flushed, which made France bark with laughter. America's eyes narrowed as he shoved a burger in France's face. He gasped, nearly choking on the half-finished treat.

"Alfred!" Matthew shouted. "He didn't mean anything by it!"

"I don't know what he meant at all, I'd just prefer y'all not speak your silly French near me!" He smiled bright, kicking France back slightly. The hit to the stomach forced France to spit out the burger as he slid backwards. He barely managed a glare before England grabbed his coat and dragged him down from behind. America ignored the scene, turning to his brother instead, "You okay? Seem a bit red. He didn't say anything too mean did he?"

Canada's face somehow only got redder, "No no, just a silly thing about England." He chuckled nervously, failing to notice America's soft smile falter.

It was only for a second, though, as America grinned and ruffled the other nation's hair. "Good! Don't want that pervert using his 'language of love' to corrupt my bro!"

Finally Germany stepped in and halted the ridiculous commotion by declaring a break. America promptly slid to his seat and grabbed a soda before sprinting out of the room, not so gently bumping France back onto his ass on the way. Russia was curious as to where the idiot was off to in such a hurry, but he decided to stay back and figure out something else.

France felt the chill before he saw the tall, looming nation, shivering as purple tendrils stroked his face. "Ah, Russia! Uh, how can I help you?"

"Privet, France. I was curious. What did you say to the small, nation that looks like America?"

"Eh?" France chuckled. "Just a private joke between Matthew and I."

"An insult to England?"

"Why so curious?" France huffed, turning aside. He waved a hand over his shoulder. "It was about America anyway so nothing to be so concerned about."

"I see, thank you." Ivan gave a curt nod before following after America. His sense of smell made the task easy, as the distinct smell of leather and grass and burgers shot through the lemon-scented hallways with a force nearly equal to America's own. The path was quite convoluted however, which surprised Ivan—why would America find it necessary to be so hidden during their break? Eventually he found himself outside a simple wooden door, thin enough that he could hear the voices inside.

Two men laughed, one immediately recognizable as America's, though it was softer than Ivan had ever heard. The other continued with his speech and it took a few seconds for Ivan to recognize it as Spanish. Ivan was not well-versed in the language, although he did hear the word for "stupid" several times. His tone was light, and America chuckled, before he shocked Ivan. His voice, calm and steady, strung together a seemingly perfect Spanish sentence. Indeed, he must have said something clever as the other man howled with laughter.

"Oh, Alfred. You amuse me so. Your views are much more refreshing than those of your people," the man switched to the universal language of the nations, with only the smallest hint of his native accent.

"Don't worry, they'll come around. Caricatures of ignorance like good old Donald are just the thing they need to realize how idiotic they're being."

"I don't know, the thought of a wall keeping you away from me is appealing," Mexico chuckled.

"Hey now!" Here America switched back to Spanish, his words eliciting yet another laugh from his neighbor.

Ivan chose this moment to make his retreat. Things were adding up: clearly America could speak Spanish fluently, and he was also assuming he could speak French. That's the only way to explain his reaction to France's insult earlier. Sure, he covered it up with his favorite defense that English should be the world language, but Ivan saw understanding in America's glare. Could it be that America wasn't as idiotic as they'd always thought? It was common courtesy to use Nation-speak when at world meetings. Usually people only fell into their native tongues or that of others when plotting something or insulting another, things which were discouraged during the conferences. The fact that America and Mexico seemed so close also slightly worried Russia, though Ivan was only more and more fascinated.

Over the years he had witnessed America's might. He liked to play the hero, and his passion usually convinced others that he always had the moral high ground. However, there were times when the country was ruthless and brutish; his skills as a tactician were impressive, both on and off the battlefield. He was one of the few countries able to scar Russia in these modern times, and yet he always offered his friendship to enemies immediately after his battles, wishing to forget the pains of the past—even in those situations where he was the one who caused the pain.

Back in the conference room, Russia settled himself into his usual chair. For a few moments, he was alone with Spain and France, who were giggling about something "cute" that Romano had done that morning. On noticing the cold nation, however, they scurried out of the room, and once again he was alone.

The door slammed open as America demanded immediate attention with a kick and a shout. He seemed disappointed on seeing only Russia in the room, but kept a dumb grin on his face as he sat in his seat, placing his shiny boots up on the table.

"Bonjour, America," Russia smiled softly.

"Bonjour? Don't tell me those throaty French-speakers have gotten to you, too?" He cleared his throat and winked, "Oh hon hon, mon cherie. Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir? Est-ce que tu aimes le sexe? Les croissants." His accent was overly exaggerated, but the words flowed from his mouth easily enough.

"I think the language is beautiful, myself."

America rolled his eyes, "Sure, compared to German it's a nice enough sounding thing. English is perfect for me, though."

"It is a rather simplistic and boorish language suitable for your intellect."

America smiled, "Kogna nibud', you commie."

"As I frequently tell you, I am no communist anymore." Russia started. "What was the first thing you said?"

"'Someday'. Your ears aren't aging well, it seems."

Russia nodded, he did remember hearing "someday", but he still felt a bit confused. "And what exactly will happen someday?"

His question went unanswered as America only winked. By now the other countries were filtering in, several exchanging pleasantries with the blond. Russia for once didn't feel lonely as he watched the extroverted nation smiling. In fact, he felt better than he had in a long time. Others saw the smile and kept their distance, all except America. When their eyes locked, America smirked before turning back to his conversation with Italy.

The rest of the presentations were rather uninspired, but Russia continued to take notes dutifully for his boss. America frequently nodded off, and even when he was awake he took to doodling rather than pay attention. When it was America's turn to speak, he proceeded to present on how his people didn't need universal healthcare since they were so much stronger than other people, that they had the "blood of heroes" coursing through their veins. In addition, gun control wasn't important to him as the heroes needed access to weapons to save the day. He concluded by declaring any other nation without equal marriage rights afforded to homosexual citizens as being extremely backwards-thinking and tyrannical, choosing to ignore the fact that this change had only occurred very recently in his own country.

Ivan was delighted by the presentation which left every other nation groaning. When America was finished, Ivan clapped politely. Everyone eyed him oddly, even America was surprised. Ivan swore he saw a flash of annoyance in his bright blue eyes, but it was soon replaced by a happy glint.

"Can it be that my heroic words are finally getting through to the lost Russia? What a beautiful time for your country!"

"Da, I am now understanding you, America. You have enlightened me."

America wiped a lone tear from his eye. "I'm so happy to hear this! In no time at all your country will be almost as great as mine."

"Thank you, comrade," Russia smiled eerily.

"Um, well I suppose that is all for the meeting today. We will reconvene promptly tomorrow morning at 9. Get some rest, everyone," Germany coughed nervously, packing up his notes and a confused looking Italy before fleeing the room. The other nations followed after quickly, feeling the tension between the two world powers and choosing to get as far away as possible.

Russia hadn't moved as America returned to his seat to collect his papers and food in a simple leather satchel. He hummed a jaunty tune and paid the taller nation no mind. He made to leave but was stopped by a large hand clamping down on his shoulder. He turned, a small glare flashing across his features before he gave a nervous smile.

"Hey Russia, would you mind letting go of me?" He winced slightly as Russia applied more pressure, but the reaction was a bit too slow to be natural.

"I would, in fact. Why run away? Am I not your new charge? A stray in need of the hero's assistance?"

"You're right, I guess you are! Well, I was just gonna head home and play some video games, so you can join me!" America easily shrugged the heavy hand off his shoulder with a strength that impressed Russia, then let the man follow him to his temporary home.

America kept quiet for the short trip down the road, only talking to muse about the lovely weather. Russia nodded in agreement, it certainly was a lovely spring day in Venice. He cared little for the shallow interactions that America so often favored, however, and was glad to reach America's home quickly.

The inside was sparsely decorated, so unlike America's homes in the States, though Russia had to admit, it'd been many years since he'd seen those homes. He used to be welcomed into them as a friend, but now his interactions within the nation were delegated to more formal spaces while their bosses conversed. He supposed all of the nations' lodgings for the week looked similar. He hadn't taken the time to admire his own home when he had arrived in the morning as he was forced to go straight to the meeting.

"Want anything to drink? I think I've got soda, some tea, juice, and maybe some vodka lying around here somewhere."

"It's a bit early for vodka, wouldn't you say?" Russia asked, amused, though he wasn't against the idea entirely.

"Nonsense! We just had a long and boring day of work. Live a little!" He ran down the hall, returning with an arm full of bottles. "You know, I've never tried any of your brands. This one is pretty popular in my home, even though it's from that damn Frenchman." He handed two large bottles of Grey Goose to Russia, who accepted them gratefully. "I traveled to Montréal recently to hang out with Matthew, and can you believe they didn't have alcohol in bulk? I had to buy so many little fifths instead of the giant handles I'm used to." America grabbed Russia's arm gently before leading him to a darkened living room. "Matthew's more of a beer guy, I think. I used to be, but it's just so much liquid you know? Why drink so much when I can get the same affect from so much less of the hard stuff?" America turned on the TV and his Xbox, tossing a controller to Russia after he sat in one of the beanbags. "Do you know how to play anything?"

"No, but you are the teacher today," Russia brought a bottle to his lips, swallowing half the contents in one gulp.

America chuckled, "Geez, Russia, I don't wanna see you get white-girl wasted. That's my job." He laughed as he clicked through the startup menu. "We'll play Mario Party, it's super fun and easy."

The two enjoyed an hour or so just playing the game, which Russia picked up on quickly. America's competitive spirit kicked in once Russia beat him at a mini-game, and soon the blond found himself with a large lead. In the end, America won, but Russia was miles ahead of him in terms of drinking and took more pride in that. He had emptied his fifth bottle while America hadn't even finished his second.

"Come America, you must drink more. To celebrate your victory as well as our new friendship."

He smiled, "Ah, you're right." He threw back the rest of the bottle and smacked his lips. "It's starting to taste like water. Can I tell you a sad story?"

"Are you that drunk already?"

"No, I just remembered it. Last month, when I was in Montréal, I had to… Oh god, it's horrible." He shuddered.

Russia's eyes widened. What vile act could America have committed for him to be so upset? Surely this would be all the evidence he needed to prove that America wasn't as innocent as he seemed.

"I had to… mix Grey Goose with Sprite. Ah, I feel awful just saying that. To have tainted such a beautiful and smooth taste with a sugary batch of chemicals."

"I honestly can't tell which one you think is which," Russia chuckled.

"I'm not so unrefined to not realize the superiority of vodka to soda, thank you very much. Anyway, I'm kind of hungry, how about you?"

"I could stand to eat, although I don't want burgers."

"Fine fine, I'll whip up something else then." America excused himself and made his way to the kitchen. Russia could hear him fumbling with pots but even among the racket found himself falling asleep in the dark room. As he cursed the inevitability of jet lag, he drifted into unconsciousness.

"Dinner's served!" America shouted as he entered his living room. Russia snored softly and the blond nation chuckled. He crouched beside the older man and shook him. As expected, Russia shot up and moved to attack, but America was ready and able to divert the punch and pin Russia's arm behind him. "Hey now, sleepyhead, that's no way to treat your host."

Russia struggled to free his arm. "Ah, I apologize, you startled me." Finally America let go of his wrist and Russia fought not to rub it in front of the other nation.

"No worries, we all need a nap every now and then. But, come on, food's ready!" Russia stood to his feet, cracking his neck and back before following his host to the dining room.

The dark wooden table gleamed in the yellow glow of the chandelier. The large table was set for six, with an elaborate gold centerpiece well stocked with red roses.

America sat at the head of the table, directing Russia to sit to his right. "Feliciano sure went all out with the decorations for our homes. He's always a good host, don't you think?"

"I can't say I've noticed."

"Didn't you see your own lodging last night?"

"I got it this morning and haven't visited yet."

"That's a shame, they're nice. Italy stocked mine with all my favorite snacks and games, too! I'm sure he put something nice in yours. Anyway," America flourished his arm toward the pans before him. "I made some tasty enchiladas and we've got rice and beans and all the veggies and sour cream for toppings. I'm not a huge fan of sour cream, but I hear you like it."

"It looks… much better than I expected, thank you." Russia scooped up two of the smothered enchiladas as well as some rice and beans, covering them with lettuce and tomatoes and a large dollop of sour cream. "I'm surprised a glutton like yourself doesn't like the condiment."

America waved his hand, "Too much fat, man. Gotta keep my prime figure."

"Of course," Russia smiled and bit into the meat and cheese filled tortilla. "I'm surprised you even know how to cook."

"Wow, I've surprised you twice in a row. Well, my land is a melting pot of cultures you know. It's only natural I'd pick up on their cuisine as well; though, I like to put my own twists on things. I even know how to cook some of your favorite dishes. I would've cooked some Russian food, but I didn't have all the necessary ingredients. Seeing as England didn't do shit to help me learn about cooking, I've had to work a bit harder at practicing it, but I've got it down I think."

"Why all the cheap burger fare, then?"

"I am a man of simple tastes. While I do appreciate some gourmet dishes, sometimes the cheap, greasy stuff and microwave meals are all I need to be happy."

Russia hummed and continued with his meal. He found himself scarfing down the food, even beating the usually ravenous America who was less than halfway done.

"Want any more? I tend to cook way more than necessary, so help yourself."

"I am satisfied, thank you."

"Good, let's take a walk! I haven't had the pleasure of exploring Venice in many years."

"Very well, America."

The odd pair was soon outside, walking in content silence. For twenty minutes they ambled in a seemingly random direction, but soon America led Russia into a large abandoned courtyard. He sat on a bench beneath a blossoming tree, patting the seat next to him. Russia complied.

"So, what's up with you? I know you don't actually care for any of my ideas or want me to teach you about my culture. So why'd you speak out like that in the meeting? And why are you even here?" America smiled, but his eyes were guarded.

"You don't believe a cold communist could have a change of heart? That your friendship got through to me?"

America laughed. "Cut the crap, Russia, and just tell me what you want. I don't need you meddling in my affairs if you're just trying to mock me."

"I am curious about you," Russia admitted.

"Well, I'm an open book. What do you want to know?"

"What is your game?"

"Well I'm pretty good at baseball, football—not soccer, mind you—basketball. Although now that I think about it I'm getting better at soccer, in men's and women's! I'm great at everything!"

Russia chuckled, admiring the conviction with which the American spoke. "Surely this act of yours is taxing? I've known you for a long time. We used to be friends, nyet?"

America shrugged. "Of course, we were good friends. Then you went fucking crazy. But we're friends again, so I don't really care about all that 'freezing the world' drama."

"You are such a warm and inviting nation, everyone thinks so."

"I try to do my best and help whenever I can."

Russia ignored the comment. "But then why is it that when I look at you I can't help but see myself? To everyone else we should be polar opposites. And yet…. There's something you're hiding."

America quirked a brow, "Hiding? Geez, and people think I'm the paranoid one. You think I'm some ruthless dictator type bent on having every other nation become one with me? Even if in the process I make everyone fear me and lose who I am?"

"Da." America was surprised by the blunt answer and rolled his eyes.

"You're so tactless." He stood, brushing the dirt from his pants before stuffing his hands in his pockets. He looked across the pavilion, seeming lost in thought. After a few minutes he came back, sighing as he regarded Russia sadly. "Anyway, I have to get home and take care of some business things. I'll see you tomorrow, though?"

"Of course." With a nod, America walked back toward the entrance. Before he left his sight, Russia called out. "I would not mind if that's how you really are." America paused, but never turned around. His back faded into the distance.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello! So, as of 1/10/17 this is being updated; just a quick check through for grammar mistakes and such, the plot won't change at all. I'm also getting rid of all notes but this one because reasons. Toodles~**


	2. Chapter 2

Russia smiled at the possibility of America being like him. If this truly was the case… then he wouldn't be alone anymore. Perhaps he could have someone who he wouldn't kill with his strength; he'd always assumed it'd be impossible. When he tried to hold other nations close to him, they would be hurt or flee. _America_ had never backed down. But then, why keep up this silly charade? He should be authentic to who he truly is so they could be together. Unless… Perhaps America didn't recognize how perfect they could be. Ivan was willing to overlook his flaws: his stupidity and greed and desire for attention.

Attention—is this what motivates the nation? Such a young thing, his rise to power could only be described as prodigious. And yet he craves approval from those other weak nations instead of finding solace in his own power. He reminded Ivan of a much younger Russia, a small boy who cried when others hated him. He finally learned that no one would be there for you in the end, so you had to be strong on your own. America certainly was strong enough to do just that, but his attachments to others were holding him back. Yes, to be at his full strength, America had to quit this act and be more like Russia. Perhaps Russia could show the young nation how to remove emotions from the equation by removing his heart. He was clearly dealing with the same fear of rejection as Ivan but just choosing to cope with it much differently. Ivan nodded, it was the only explanation. Very well, he thought. This time around America needed his own hero to help him realize the error of his ways. Then, the two nations could rule together. He smiled and stood, not noticing how his chilly aura was affecting the tree above him. Luckily for the plant, the Russian left before the frost could bite its core.

Russia passed by America's house and decided to engage in some casual espionage. He knew that America was a stickler for security, but he probably hadn't had time to place his usual cameras and traps on this lodging, or so Russia hoped. But, even if he was captured, he was sure the nation wouldn't do anything against him, not now that their bosses had reached a begrudgingly peaceful understanding. Such was his logic as he climbed up a tree to peer into America's study.

It was all quite easy. America had his back to the large window and was currently on the phone, rubbing his eyes beneath Texas. He took off the glasses, tossing them to the far side of the desk roughly. He slammed the phone down, keeping his hand on it for several tense seconds. Finally, he shoved away from his desk, rolling back a foot on his chair. He swiveled abruptly, opening the window. Russia froze, thinking he'd been discovered, but was surprised to see America sitting on the sill, letting his feet dangle freely. He took out a cigarette and lit it, took a long drag, and sighed. Russia wasn't used to seeing America smoke, it was a habit more popular with the European nations. America's free hand tapped out a frantic beat on his knee. Whatever phone call he'd just made was severely stressing out the young nation, it seemed. A soft song started playing, and America reached into his pocket for his cell phone. He eyed the name for a moment before answering with a smile.

"Buono sera! Come stai? Ah!" America took another drag as he listened, chuckling occasionally. "Comunque…. hai fatto a risolvere il nostro problema?" Another drag. "Certamente." And another. He laughed, though it was mirthless. "Non devo per ricordare le conseguenze, vero?" _("Good evening! How are you? Ah! … Anyway… did you solve our problem? … Certainly… I don't have to remind you of the consequences, do I?")_ He snuffed out the cigarette as he hung up the phone, glaring at the technology before he hoisted himself back inside. America looked directly at Russia's hiding spot. He seemed puzzled, and his lips were in a hard line. Then he shrugged and spoke.

"Perednyaya dver' razblokirovana. Tak chto ostanovit' shpionazhe na menya, i pribyt' vnutri, yesli vy tak lyubopytno." The blond crossed his arms and glared. ( _"The front door is unlocked, so quit spying on me and come inside if you're so curious.")_

Russia smiled at this invitation. Instead of using the door as was suggested, Russia leaped onto the windowsill. "Privet, America. Izvini za eto." ( _"I'm sorry about that.")_

"Whatever," America stepped back and allowed the country entry.

"You've been hiding your talents all this time. Everyone underestimates you," Russia mused.

America eyed him coldly. Without Texas, he looked so much younger. But his bright eyes noticed everything even without them. Could it be that they were a ruse too?

"Of course they do. It's what I want."

"I see. So you make them think you're a bumbling idiot so that in the end you can crush them under foot? It's brilliant."

"Crush them? Dude it's not like that at all! Unlike you I am content with my already large square mileage," he huffed.

"Really? Your jingoism has surpassed that of even your father who coined the term. I don't believe you."

"He's not my father, and I don't care if you believe me or not, 'cause I know what's true. And I don't want to expand or swallow up others."

"So what do you want?"

"What any nation wants: for my citizens to be happy."

"Is that so? So if every American was happy you would be?"

"Of course."

"Such a goal is impossible, which is why we act as we do. We go to war to defend our people, powers shift, and nations fall. Such a rudimentary goal inevitably leads to more. Tell me, what is it you crave?"

"For you to stop acting so damn creepy in my house, for one."

"What if I told you my goal?"

"I already know, a world in red."

"Nyet, not quite. Above all, I want a friend."

"I can't understand how you haven't found one yet with your charming personality," he quipped with a roll of his eyes.

"I used to be idealistic like you, though I will admit your brute strength is greater than mine was back then. So, you try and fit a mold that others create for you, knowing that it's against who you are."

"You don't know me at all, Russia. Even if you knew me in the past, the old me is long gone. I've forgotten him."

"Forgotten? Even all the amazing feats you did? Remember your deadly weapons? How could you forget the cries of Hiroshima and Nagasaki? The crack of whips on the backs of those you rejected for years? The smell of burning flesh of the native mother who helped you survive your first years? You sprung up like a weed, and none could stop you. Instead of choking the others, though, you helped them. Even when no one asked for your aid or wanted it. You are a weed that poses as a flower, a blooming sunflower in a field of well-cultured roses."

"Guess that makes you the weed-killer? Or maybe just a tumbleweed to match your dry humor."

"You jest, but I am quite serious. There was a time long ago that I sensed a great coldness behind your warmth, you remember, nyet?"

"That's in the past, man, like I said."

"But our pasts are who we are."

"Maybe that's how you work, with your twisted past leading up to who you are now, but not me." He turned his back to Russia. "Look, you have your ways of coping with the hard decisions, and so do I. So why can't you let me be?"

"You—do you mean…" Ivan placed his hand over his chest, feeling a dull thumping within. America looked over his shoulder when Russia trailed off.

"Not quite. When I saw you do that, I was disgusted. But then I started thinking, was removing emotions such a bad idea? I concluded that it was. Without emotions I'd be lonely. People would fear my cold power. Surely you understand."

Russia nodded.

"So I found another way. I've committed heinous deeds in the past, I know this. And each time my heart hurt. But the hurt pushed me to better myself and better the world so I wouldn't have to do such things in the future." He rubbed at his chest. "Of course, over time so much hurt will get to you. So I forgot about it. I moved on, and now I smile more. I have all this power, it's true, but that's not the most important thing to me. Because unlike you I am not alone."

Russia smiled. "If what you say is true, it is an impressive feat, to forget all those things. But you are mistaken in one regard: you are still alone. Because while you forget and try to make up for your past with kind, overbearing acts now, we all remember; I'm just the only one bold enough to question it. The others, they prefer you this way, so forgiving and generous. But I don't. I want to see the true America. I'm sure your people do too. The true America is just as alone as I am, even though the actor before me has so many friends."

America sighed. "And what, you want me to be like you so you can have a friend? Why would I even want to be your friend?"

"Because I'm the only one who can accept the true depth of your despair."

He rolled his eyes, "Don't act like we're the only two who've felt suffering. You're not special, and neither am I."

"Of course not," Russia continued smiling. "How do you go about the forgetting, then?"

"The same way you deal with things, but instead of taking out my heart, I take out my memories."

Russia's eyes widened. "You take them out?"

"Yeah. Tony inspired me. It's got some Harry Potter inspiration too. But I've got a machine. If I focus on a certain memory and then turn it on, it's zapped from my head and saved on a hard drive instead. So I don't have to deal with it on a daily basis."

"That's…"

"Unfortunately," America continued. "It's not perfect. I still get phantom memories of the pain. But that's what alcohol's for, I suppose!" he smiled.

Russia found this revelation unsettling. He was a bit taken aback, but he believed the nation. Hell, if he was allowed to take out his heart physically then why couldn't the American extract his memories? "Surely this is bad for your brain."

"It might be. It's certainly been a bitch on some random facts I should know, but it's left me room to learn more. That's how I've been able to study so much because my mind palace isn't clogged with unnecessary crap."

"What would happen if you remembered everything?" Russia asked.

America shrugged. "I honestly have no idea. Like I said, it helps for day to day things, but I am not so weak that I would die from the memories all coming back. I fear though that I'd lose my humanity for a bit. It would be hard for me to be so kind to my friends when I remember how cold they all were to me in the past." He clenched his fists. "If I remembered, I'd be very tempted to pay them back in kind."

"Would you even remember to apologize to those you've wronged?"

"I don't think I would be able to face them."

"But you'd want to?"

"Of course."

"I think you underestimate yourself as well. I don't think having these memories will hinder you. It is clear you want peace and friends, but it is possible to have those as well as have your full power."

"Yes, it's worked well for you," America scoffed.

Russia's smile finally fell at the words. America had a point, and Russia didn't mind the jab. A question was niggling at the back of his head, though, and it had been for several minutes. "Do you remember when we met? Do you remember our actual friendship? Our space race?"

"I could look it up, but I cannot remember it right now. Those were good times, I know. Just thinking about it makes my heart warm," America clutched his chest. "But I also know that you hurt me. You spat in my face and threatened me and called my entire existence a blight to this earth. You wanted to make me yours but in the wrong way; you can't smother me, you have to let me fly."

"Da. And you wanted to be by my side at one point. But I did not know how to see myself on an equal level with someone."

"And do you now?"

Russia avoided America's gaze. Thinking of his past with America—no, with Alfred—was painful. It seemed so long ago, though compared to Russia's age it was very recent. But for America, their relationship peaked just after he had entered into nationhood. Surely the memories were particularly poignant for him.

"I didn't think so," America concluded from Russia's silence. "This is why I did this. I let people like you in and they hurt me. But I don't want to close myself off like you do. I want to feel what the other nations feel. I want to love and be loved. So I forget the good and the bad and start fresh. I wish I had had this machine back when you first hurt me. I was in so much pain for a long time," he sighed. "I forget you, but then you come marching back into my life with your nose where it shouldn't be. It's easy with the others. But it isn't with you. Every time I want to start over with you, you demand things from me that I'm not ready for. You bring me back to the days when…"

His thoughts were interrupted by his desk phone ringing loudly. America gave an apologetic smile before answering.

"Hello? Ah, good afternoon Mr. President. Yeah, things are fine here. My presentation went well. I'm just at home working. Obviously I'm at the house since you called me here… yeah. Yeah. Uh-huh." There was a long pause. "Again? You're fucking kidding me. Are you jackasses ever gonna do anything about this? Fine. I have to tell them, you know. God this is ridiculous." He hung up the phone, his grip cracking the black plastic slightly.

"What was that?"

"There was a another goddamn shooting back home. Five dead, seven wounded. The guy offed himself before police even got there." He groaned, "It hurts when my people die, when I let this stuff happen to them. But they won't fucking listen to me when it comes to gun control! What the hell can I do? The boss says it'll be fixed soon, and that we're doing the right thing, but it's taking so goddamn long." He opened a tall cabinet at the back of the room. Inside was a humming computer, green letters flashing across the screen. A long black cord was connected to a rather medieval looking pair of forceps, which America took in his hand. "So fucking stupid sometimes. I hate myself for being unable to change, we always stick to old ways for some reason." He scrunched his eyes, shoving the forceps into the top of his head. A bit of red flashed and he grunted as he pulled. A dull blue orb was caught in the forceps, which seemed to absorb the sphere. A new file was created on the computer and stored out of sight. America set down the tool and rubbed his head, the wound already closing. He brought his hand to his eye and rubbed away a tear.

"Another sad one, huh? Ah, that's too bad." He looked up and saw Russia staring in shock. "Oh, when'd you get here? Guess I didn't think it dangerous to let you witness that. Can I help you?"

"America, I do not think this is good for you."

"Eh, I know any memories I'd have of you giving a shit about me are decades old. I think I already explained to you that I'm doing this so I don't end up alone like you, got it?" America began to pale. "Now, if you excuse me, I need to rest. I took out more than I'd meant to. Please show yourself out." Before waiting for a response, the blond left his office in search of his bedroom.

Naturally Russia made his way to the computer. He wanted to see just how much America was forcing himself to forget. In his state, he had left the device unlocked, so Russia now had access to every private moment America chose to remove from his mind. He could discover so many secrets, things America himself wouldn't be able to tell him.

So why did he immediately open a folder titled "Ivan Braginsky"? He could find out America's weakness with a few clicks. Why did he choose instead to watch hours of video of himself and America from years past?

Instead of finding out America's weakness, Russia found his own in the memories. And it was none other than Alfred F. Jones.

* * *

 _"Fucking pussy, stop your crying," a gray figure scolded._

 _America sniffed, looking up at his extraterrestrial friend. "I can't, Tony. He's infuriating me. I wish I could just forget as easily as he can—he doesn't even know that he hurt me! That every time I see him I want to throttle him. But then I also want to hold him. God, it's fucked up."_

 _"Fucked up, yes. But you will grow from it."_

 _"Grow? How? This is ruining me. I'll never trust him, or anyone else again. That's not growth, it's self-destruction!" The alien gave him a sad look._

 _"Alfred, if you really want to, I can help you forget. My people, we have a technique for this. But I must warn you, it will hurt. I wouldn't recommend you use it often, only for the big things. I'd prefer you only use it this one time. Each time you use it, your brain will suffer. In addition, while you may forget what specifically is causing you pain, you will still feel it randomly in your heart. For many, knowing the source can be a comfort for the pain, as then you can reason that your pain is logical. Using this, however, will numb you to it all."_

 _"I don't care! God, just do what you can, Tony!" America clawed at his chest, barely managing to break the surface. "How can he take it out so easily? I wish I could, but without it my people would die. Please, help me Tony!"_

 _"Very well," the alien placed his long fingers to Alfred's temple. "Focus on what it is you want to forget. I will remove the memory and store it should you ever wish to retrieve it. Bring it to the front of your mind." He gave Alfred a few moments to gather his thoughts. "Now, tell me what it is specifically that you want me to remove. This'll hurt like a bitch, so for your sake I want to get it on the first try."_

 _"I want to forget my love for Russia, for Ivan Braginsky. I want to forget my infatuation with him from the moment I met him up to when he shut me out. I want to forget how happy I thought I could be with him." The alien nodded, then shoved his fingers into America's skull. Blood cascaded down Alfred's face to the sound of his piercing scream._

* * *

Back in the chamber, Russia pushed away from the screen, watching as another memory started up before him. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a familiar gray face staring at him.

"Hello, bitch," it waved.

Russia was able to remain composed, though the dark room and the close quarters almost made him nervous. "Hello," he finally responded. "Tony."

"What are you doing in my friend's memories?"

"Just trying to figure out what mess he's gotten himself into."

"A rather large one, I'm sure you've deduced. I know who you are. You are the reason Alfred did this to himself."

"It's not my fault he was too immature to handle things properly!"

"No, but it's your fault for hurting him. You took out your heart when you did it, so you didn't realize what it would do to him. I know that if you hadn't, you wouldn't have been able to."

"Our people did not agree, it was only natural."

"Nations can still be close when at war. It is because you are more than the sum of your people. You have your own motivations and desires. Your own hearts yearning for love."

Russia scoffed at the idea. How long had it been since his heart even considered such a thing? It was impossible for him to find friends who accepted him, let alone someone who loved him. America was young in that memory, Russia could see it in his eyes. He wasn't fully aware of who Russia was, which is the only reason why he'd say those things.

"I let you watch all these because I think you're the only one who can help him. I've tried myself—I told him countless times that he can't pull out every little thing that upsets him. I thought he'd just want to forget about his feelings for you. But then he went and invented this contraption behind my back. I can't destroy it obviously. The only way for him to heal is if he chooses to reabsorb all the memories."

"What makes you think I'll help him?"

"Because of what he said in that last memory—that's not in the 'Ivan' folder by the way; it along with the original extraction I made will remain on my hard drive unless I think he's ready for it—and because it's the only way he'll be who he's meant to be. When he's at full strength, with every painful memory included, that's when he'll be able to love you again."

"Why would I want his love? He clearly was ready to forfeit it easily enough."

"Why? Isn't it what you've always wanted?"

"You think everything I've done up until now is to get America's love?" Russia chuckled. "All the wars and killings and outright rejections of him?"

"Yes. Nations are more complex than humans, but you still act very irrationally like them. You struggle to show affection, tending instead to snuff out things you care for. However, you know in your heart that if you or someone else were to kill Alfred, you wouldn't be the same."

Ivan's heart shuddered. "America cannot die by anyone else's hand but mine."

"Or his own."

"What are you saying?"

"This device will be the fall of America. He will be in a never-ending cycle of mistakes and tragedies because of it. He thinks that forgetting his problems helps because then he doesn't have to deal with the consequences. As a result, his country doesn't make the proper reforms and bad things keep happening. Just now he said that his people are always stuck in their old ways; all the other nations see it, but because he forgets, so too do his people. They can't be helped until he chooses to remember. It'll also affect the world stage. He'll forget who to trust and who to be wary of, and get into wars with the wrong people. He'll forget laws and act in ways too barbaric to imagine. He'll forget the power that he has and destroy unsuspecting nations. And in the end, he'll forget what he did to wind up all alone on a dead planet."

Tony seemed to grow with each word, or perhaps it was just the menacing possibility that caused Russia to cower ever so slightly.

"You may think I'm crazy, but I have seen this and more. If he stays on this path, I can assure your death."

"By America? Don't be ridiculous."

"No, at the hands of everyone else. It wouldn't be very hard for him to get everyone to turn on you, would it? He's already so close with both your sisters. A strategic alliance has been in place for months now, even he doesn't realize it. And you're hardly close to many others who'd be strong enough to question his plans."

"So we kill him, then. It's simple."

"Ah, like I said, without him you would be changed; you'd fill his place but instead of winning a destitute future dealing with the fallout, your internal strife would end you before the final war even began. Besides, your charisma isn't like his. You couldn't lead others in a campaign against him. Even if they find him annoying, they need his resources and protection. If you struck him, you'd be attacked by his allies immediately. The only way for the world to remain at relative peace is for him to take in all these memories and learn how to live with them. In addition, you two need to reach some kind of agreement. He was civil with you today because of this machine, which is a good thing. He thinks that with the memories he'll only want to hurt you, but his heart is pure still—I often forget that he is still so young despite all he's done and seen. Because of his heart, he can still forgive and he can still give love to those who've wronged him. He can still humbly apologize to those he's hurt, as well.

"I am worried that his heart is dulling now, though. He lives with a lot of pain and not a lot of genuine happiness. The many bad memories in this machine still burden his heart daily, but he just ignores it or drinks a lot to numb it." Tony stopped his rambling as Russia shuffled out of the room. "What are you…?" he called out.

Ivan was very confused, and more than a little angry. How dare this stupid American drive himself to such ruin and blame _him_ for it. Sure, he was harsh back then, but it was Russia doing that, not _him_. Ivan and Alfred… they used to be so good together. But then Russia fell and America thought it was his place to pick him up. Russia didn't want that, even if Ivan did. And he pushed back America, not Alfred. _But both were too dumb to figure that out_ , he thought.

He found himself outside of America's bedroom, kicking in the door with little thought for the occupant. America opened his eyes slowly, not comprehending the tall man rushing towards him till it was too late. He let out a small squeak as Russia jammed his hand into his chest. He had trouble getting a firm hold on the heart, it burned him to touch. America finally woke up and pulled back his fist. He clocked Russia in the jaw, sending the nation flying toward the wall. The force was enough to dislodge the young nation's beating heart, which Russian promptly lost a hold of once it left his chest cavity. The taller nation's back hit the wall, and he slid down to his knees while clutching his burnt hand in the other.

"Dude, what the hell are you doing here? What did you..?" America's enraged gaze tore itself from Russia for a moment to take in the red mass now on his floor. "How did you do that?"

Russia stood slowly, and easily slid his own heart out. "Much practice. You should put it in quickly, da, or else your people will die. So you said before, at least."

America slid off the bed, plucking up the organ casually. "When did I say that? And back in? But, oh man, I haven't felt this light in ages! I feel fantastic!"

"You must have been harboring a lot of pain if this neutral numbness is so pleasurable to you."

"You have no idea, dude," he tossed the heart between his hands. As Russia neared him with his heart in his hand, America raised a brow. He reached out tentatively and on seeing Russia not retract the offering, he held Russia's heart alongside his own.

One was cold, and stained a darker red. But it pulsed at a normal rate and gave off a brilliant shine that lightened some of the spots. The other was hot to the touch, and a faint pink. It was lighter than the first, but only in color, as it seemed to have no light glowing within it. It thumped slowly and inconsistently. Each pulse was weak.

America looked confused as he handed Russia back his healthily thumping heart. His legs trembled and he fell to sitting on his bed.

"You should put it back in. You aren't used to having it out as much as I am," Russia stated calmly, pressing his in place. He winced at the odd tingling that always accompanied the action, but showed no other sign of distress.

America however could not fit his heart back in properly. He tried a gentle pressing as Russia had demonstrated, but found himself grunting with effort as more force was required. He looked at the other nation sheepishly. "Could you…?"

Russia placed his hand over America's, slightly flushing at the intimate action. But no matter how much he pushed, the heart wouldn't go back in. The organ gave one last pulse before fading in America's hands.

"Huh, well that can't be good," America chuckled. He turned his face upward, blue eyes locking with purple. "I just wanted to go back to who I was before my world went to hell. When I was a young and vibrant nation with everything open to me. But things changed, and I had to too. So I thought, maybe if I changed myself to be who I was in the beginning, the exuberant, cheerful, hero, things would go back to normal. I wanted to remember him by forgetting myself, acting as he would whenever I failed." He stood, bumping Russia on his way to the door. His hand fell, dropping his dead heart. He didn't even notice and continued down the hall toward his office.

Russia picked up the heart, brushing off a few specks of dust it had picked up during its short stay on the floor. He kept it safe in his hands, not even thinking it odd how gently he could cradle the thing that gave him total control over the nation that had for so long been his enemy.

As he followed after America, he found himself realizing just how long it had been since he'd truly considered America an enemy. True, things between them were far from pleasant, and Russia was often jealous of the young nation's ease at gaining friends when he himself struggled so much with interpersonal relationships, but he hadn't hated the nation for years. Even during the Cold War, he didn't truly hate America and his ways. Those were orders, and with his heart securely locked away from his body, hate wasn't possible really.

It took Russia less than a minute to find America bent over his odd contraption. Tony was beside him, a gray hand resting on his back in a comforting gesture. The alien eyed Russia slowly before his attention turned to the lump in his hands.

"Dumb git, shouldn't have forced it out like that, weak as he is. His body's rejecting it, seeing it as a foreign object only capable of bringing pain."

"I'm not weak," America mumbled, his tone a stark contrast to the meaning of his words.

"Of course you're not, Al. I'm glad you're back here, though. That means you understand what needs to happen."

"I can't say I understand. In fact it doesn't make any sense why I'd choose to live with the memories and the pain. But, I feel myself fading, if that makes sense. If this is the only way my body will be able to accept my heart, then so be it." He slumped down on a stool, clenching a firm fist around the machine's extraction tool. With his free hand, he removed his glasses and brushed aside his unruly bangs before opening up a random file.


	3. Chapter 3

"'Abraham Lincoln', this can't be too bad, he was a good guy, I feel. Let's do it, I guess." He clicked and the machine whirred to life. The tool glowed a light blue for a few seconds before America rammed it into his temple. He winced at the initial pain, then groaned as it reabsorbed into his head.

A single tear fell from his eye. "Damn, he was a good man. Why'd they let that happen to him? Hmm 'Civil War' is next." He pressed the file and another pulse shot through him, this one longer than the last. He cried out, losing more tears this time. "That was a lot of blood. I was so… broken. How could my people do that to their relatives? I slaughtered myself, for crying out loud!"

Russia blamed the other nation's impressive influence over emotions for his next action as he knelt beside America, placing his hand on the other's. "That was a hard time for you, and I'm sorry for your pain. I remember visiting you, you could barely stomach your meals or lift your musket. But each day your Union fought because you believed in your cause. As did I."

America turned to him. "You did? Those ships that helped me… it was you wasn't it? The memories aren't fully completed yet."

"Da, that was me. We were just becoming acquainted with each other at the time. But I had high hopes for our friendship even then." America smiled at the thought, even if he couldn't quite remember things the way the Russian could.

"Hey fuckers, quit making googly eyes and continue with this!" Tony's voice cut through their moment like a knife. Russia blushed, but America only chuckled.

"Don't be ridiculous, Tony, we're just friends anyway. Alright, next file that pops up is… 'Trail of Tears'. Yikes, I already know this won't end well."

They continued like this for several hours, each memory becoming more and more taxing on America's strength. As the clock neared three in the morning, America said he was too exhausted to continue. They were only a fourth of the way through the files. Russia finally released his firm hold on his hand with one last squeeze and stood. America extracted the tool from his head, rubbing the spot that healed instantaneously, a testament to his strength as a personification.

"God my head is killing me. Do you think it'd be possible to skip the meeting tomorrow? Say I'm hurting because of that shooting, or something?" The memory of the events of that day was the last one he had downloaded, along with the rest of the very large "Shootings" file.

"You should try your best to make it. Wake up when you normally would and make the call then," Russia advised.

America sniffed, "Ugh, nine is just so early! I'd rather sleep in and stay up late. You older nations keep weirder hours 'cause you go to bed so early."

Russia smiled, glad that the nation was in good enough spirits to joke. "Your brother is just as young, and he has never been late to a meeting. You always wake up early enough to grab your McDonald's and Starbucks before showing up. Maybe if you skipped them you'd be able to sleep in a bit more."

"Skip… McDonald's?" He paled. "You monster! How could you even suggest such a thing? I'd wither away without my sausage egg and cheese McMuffin, hash browns, and OJ! And how could I wake up my brilliant mind without my grande Skinny Café Mocha with a pump of chocolate and an extra shot of espresso?"

"Those words... my teeth and stomach hurt just hearing them! Anyway, I should head home. Will you be alright by yourself?"

"Of course, dude! Thanks for waiting up for me! I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Alright, sleep well." He turned to Tony, removing America's still faded heart from his pocket. "Take care of him. And this."

"Get the fuck out already, yeesh!" He replied, though his tone was genial. With a parting nod, Russia showed himself out the door before making his way down the path. His home wasn't far, as all the nations were clustered in a neighborhood close to the conference center. He didn't take time to appreciate the dwelling and instead went straight to the single bedroom. He plopped onto the bed, falling asleep in his traveling clothes, not even minding his ever-handy pipe digging into his chest.

A few hours later, he came to regret his sleeping position. With a grunt, he rolled out of the bed, tossing his coat and pipe aside before shuffling to the conjoined bathroom. He rubbed the sand out of his eyes, not caring to stifle his large yawn seeing as he was alone. A wall clock in the bathroom revealed the time to be 9:10. Flipping open his phone, he saw that he had missed calls and texts from his sisters, and one from Germany. He replied a quick apology for his lateness, citing his jet lag as the culprit and said that he would be there soon.

Since he was already late for the meeting, he decided to take a quick shower and change. His driver had delivered his luggage to his home the previous morning when Russia was forced to go straight to the meeting, so he had all his clothes and toiletries on hand. On returning to his room, he glared at the pipe that left a red mark on his torso. Choosing to leave it behind as punishment for its treachery, he left his home in a pair of grey slacks and a dark blue sweater with a pin of his flag. While he didn't have his usual coat, his scarf and boots still completed the look.

He figured he'd arrive at a bit after 10, just in time for their short snack break, so he didn't see a need to make or stop for breakfast. As he estimated, he strolled in just as several caterers came in with carts full of pastries, juice, and coffee. He was ready to compete with the ever-hungry America for the amazingly fluffy beignets, but frowned on seeing that he wasn't there. He grabbed a handful of breads and a bowl of fruit before dropping himself onto his seat, which was surprisingly warm and pliable.

"Good to see you, Russia!" France smiled to his left. "Although I should probably ask you to get off of my poor little Mathieu."

"Hm?" he asked through a mouth full of crepe. He turned, seeing a faint outline of a man behind him. "Ah, um, hello? I'm sorry for sitting on you."

"That's okay…"

"Who are you?"

"I'm Canada…"

"So, what makes you so late today?" France continued the conversation, not caring that Russia hadn't moved from his seat.

"Ah, the jet lag. My flight was delayed yesterday so I ended up arriving only an hour before the meeting. I didn't get much sleep and still haven't adjusted to the time difference so I slept in accidentally."

"Hm, I wonder if Alfred is the same way? He hasn't showed up either, but he hasn't replied to anyone's calls. I didn't even see him last night, and he usually visits Angleterre and I on the first nights of these things before we all get bogged down with work."

"America isn't answering his phone? I hope he's alright. Maybe he'll just come late with his Starbucks as he always does."

"Hopefully. He didn't seem to be sick or anything yesterday. In fact he's never seemed to be sick or low on energy for a long time. I don't understand how he can keep on like that. I guess that's the blessing of being young, non? Did you hear the sad news?"

"There's a lot of sad news, you'll have to be more specific."

"America had another shooting. The fifth this month! I have a few friends in Louisiana, and they say other states have taken to rioting. Perhaps that's been getting to him?"

"Don't be ridiculous," England cut in, sipping his tea as he sat on France's other side. "You know that git doesn't even seem to notice when these kinds of things happen. Why would this time be any different?"

"You're so cold, Arthur. Just because he doesn't show it, doesn't mean he doesn't mourn. It'd be impossible for us to be so disconnected from the sorrows of our people." France flipped his hair. "Anyway, this topic is too sad. Russia, you look very nice today! You should ditch that coat more often. It's reassuring to know you don't have any weapons on you." He waggled his eyebrows. "Unless there's another pipe you're hiding under those clothes."

England spat out his tea, smacking his longtime friend. "Bloody hell, Francis, you're pulling that shit when I'm right here?"

France whined, "Oh Arthur, you know I was only kidding!" He attempted to hug the other nation but was shoved away. "Unless you're interested, Russia," he added with a wink. England prepared another swing, which met its target. Russia turned from the bickering couple and back to his breakfast, digesting the information as well as the food. His seat grumbled beneath him, accepting his fate for the remainder of the meeting until lunch break was called. Next time, Canada would make sure to be the last one sitting.

Russia's thoughts were interrupted by Switzerland taking the podium and presenting on his country's economic endeavors for the past year and what strategies he found successful. It was rather dull, but Russia knew he should've paid better attention anyway. His mind kept wandering to America. Perhaps he should go check on him? But, if his closest friends didn't think it was a problem enough to do so, why should he? Although, he did know greater details as to the extent of America's psyche. Luckily for Russia, his chair had been taking great notes up to this point. He quickly snatched them up, ignoring a small squeak of protest, before standing to his feet. Everyone was staring at him, as he had rudely interrupted the next speaker's introduction. As his luck would have it, the current speaker was none other than Romano, who quickly stopped his speech on cultural restoration projects to chew out the Russian. Spain quickly intervened, which gave Russia enough time to flee the scene with his chair's meticulous notes in hand. Grabbing one last donut to go, he darted through the hallways and out of the building, startling several lounging caterers and secretaries. He made two quick stops once outside the conference center before turning back to the nations' neighborhood.

Within minutes he was outside America's home, his body full of energy from the cheap sugary treats. The door was locked—he was glad either Tony or America had been cognizant enough last night for that much, so he was forced to find another way in. He climbed the same tree he had used the previous night on seeing that the office window was still open. It wasn't difficult to hop across and onto the windowsill, though he did overestimate the distance and landed awkwardly on the rolling chair. He went sliding into the desk before completely flipping over the thing, landing with a loud thud on his face. He felt a hot throbbing in his ankle, and he realized it was twisted in a horrible fashion. With a grunt, he got to his feet, his leg already healing—America wasn't the only nation capable of such feats. The noise had attracted someone's attention, and soon Tony was in the room.

"'Bout fucking time you got here. Alfred's not doing too good, go help him!" Tony grabbed Russia by the arm, careful not to upset the precious package the tall nation was carrying with him. "Thank goodness, we were running out of ice cream!"

Tony pushed Russia into the bedroom, which was pitch black except for a small screen that illuminated America's face. He was nestled in a pile of pillows and blankets, and it was clear he had been crying. He turned at the sound of the door opening, and another onslaught of tears followed soon after.

"Get out! I don't want anyone to see me like this! Oh, I'm sorry Russia, I'm such a mess. What are you doing here?"

"I saw you weren't at the meeting, so I came to check on you. I slept in myself, otherwise I would've come to check up on you earlier." He awkwardly stepped toward the bed, not sure what to do with himself. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know, I'm just so sad. I can't believe all those things happened, you know? And I just keep thinking that they didn't, and I'm just imagining it. I guess I'm in denial about it all. And then when I deny everything I feel a lot better, but that's what got me into this memory mess in the first place, wanting to forget. So, I'm just vegging out a bit and watching some sad movies to make myself feel better." He finally noticed the bag. "Is that McDonald's?"

"Da, I got this on my way, and some Starbucks." He set them on the bed to America's side. He smiled and immediately brought the cup to his lips, sighing contentedly.

"Aw, you remembered my drink."

"Of course, and there's the McMuffin and hashed browns in the bag. I didn't have enough hands for the orange juice, unfortunately."

America moaned as he gulped down his drink, the wanton sound forcing Russia to blush. America paid him no mind and instead dug into the greasy bag for his meal. "God, you're my hero, Russia!" With another, slightly quieter moan, America bit into his sandwich, falling onto his back as his eyes fluttered shut. The sight was a bit much for the Russian, who coughed to hide his discomfort. Luckily America was too preoccupied to notice the other nation shifting himself, cursing himself for not wearing his heavy coat for once.

It didn't take long for America to finish his gifts, and he concluded the feast by loudly sucking on his fingers, exaggerating the sounds to properly express his appreciation for the taste. Russia chose to distract himself from the oddly erotic display by musing instead on whether or not America knew what an affect he had on him. And not just on him, he was sure. How could the other nations not recognize the physical phenomenon that was the United States? How many of them had craved the sun-kissed skin, to make those big sky country blue eyes shut from pleasure at their own hand? And how many of them had done such a thing?

Now Russia's mood slightly darkened. The fact that others may have touched America made him burn with jealousy. And yet, he realized that he had no right to be jealous. It was not as if he had ever laid claim to the man, or as if America would accept such an offer. Even with the love confession he had heard, he had his doubts that America would ever see him as more than a friend. He was broken out of his negative train of thought by a happy sigh beside him. His mood instantly shifted when he took in the big smile of the young nation.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

"Yeah, a little bit. Hey, aren't you skipping the meeting right now?"

"Da, but I don't mind. Your health is more important. Plus I took enough notes for my boss not to think that I missed an entire day."

"I'll have to borrow those. Anyway, since you're here I should probably get out of bed. Wanna watch a movie with me? I was about to start _Pride and Prejudice_. It's not sad, but I wanna watch it anyway."

"Alright, although if you're comfortable enough here, I don't mind staying in the bed," Russia mumbled the last part into his scarf, and it took a few seconds for America to comprehend what he had said.

"That's fine by me! Just give me a sec to make some space in my little nest. It's pretty warm, just to let you know, and maybe has some crumbs. In fact it's pretty disgusting so if you wanna leave just let me know." His trash was scooched aside, landing among empty cartons of Ben and Jerry's and a liter bottle of coke. He was forced to throw out a few pillows and one blanket to make room for the large man, but finally they were settled in together, with Russia leaning against the headboard and America leaning on his shoulder. He propped his iPad up on his lap, swiping to his desired movie and pressing play.

Ten minutes in, Russia was a bit uncomfortable with the arrangement. His shoulder didn't appreciate the weight, and it felt a bit strained with two large men in the bed. America noticed, and with a huff, nuzzled his face into Russia's chest. He yelped at the slightly ticklish feeling, and his arms shot up in defense. America used that time to slide under his arm, which had no choice but to rest on his back. Now they were cuddling, and both were blushing from the change. However, Russia couldn't complain since he was now much more comfortable. He released his tensed arm muscles, letting them melt into Alfred's back.

"There, much comfier! Now stop talking!"

"I didn't say—"

"Shhhh!"

Russia found himself enjoying the movie, although he probably enjoyed the reactions of America much more. Even though he'd seen the movie many times, evident by his frequent quoting, he still would gasp and laugh with each revelation or dramatic moment. At the conclusion, he seemed near to tears.

"Are you alright?" Russia asked, shaking his shoulder gently.

"Yeah, just a bit vulnerable to feels right now, ya know?"

"Not at all."

"I gotta hand it to Arthur, he's produced some great romances, even though he's demonstrated that he has the emotional capacity of a stick. I'm not sure how Francis can date someone like that. He should really read some of his own novels sometime."

"I didn't peg you as a romantic."

"Are you kidding me? I'm loathe to admit it, but I could give France a run for his money! I know it's a bit silly, but I can't pass up a good romantic comedy or steamy paperback!"

"Perhaps those aren't the best representations of true romance. Love is a bit deeper than your cheap Hollywood productions."

He rolled his eyes, "Of course I know that! I've got quality stuff too, you know. And it's not like I can't divulge in other people's stuff. I've seen your movies and read your books too!"

"Ah, but if it's not in the original language—" he broke off on remembering America's skill with linguistics.

"Of course I read them in their original language, I'm not an idiot."

"Can it be that you're actually a genius?"

He shrugged, "Perhaps I am, but what good's being smart? Not like anyone would ever love a nation for having all the intelligence and power to annihilate anyone."

Russia narrowed his eyes at the comment, not because he doubted America's claim, but because the nation seemed so convinced. "You really think no one could appreciate your mind at its full potential? That no one could admire your mental prowess and match your strategies?"

America shrugged, "I'm sorry, I'm sounding like an asshole, I'm not saying that I'm the smartest nation or anything, far from it. I'm just saying that even if I was, it wouldn't matter. So why should I be as smart as I can, you know?"

"You shouldn't stifle yourself for the sake of others," Russia replied, growing more and more annoyed by the distracting music of the credits.

America scoffed, "That's a bit ironic, coming from you."

"What do you mean?"

"Surely you realize that when you want to 'become one' with someone, your first instinct is to smother whatever it is that made them special in the first place. That's no way to treat a friend, to stifle them yourself."

Russia pondered this quietly. It wasn't like this was the first time such an opinion had been expressed to him, although he hadn't really taken it seriously as it was from his weaker counterparts who ended up running away from him—what could they know about it? Their relationships were so imbalanced in terms of power that they could never understand his point of view. But such a comment coming from an equally powerful and misunderstood nation struck him a bit deeper. Was it hypocritical of him to say that America shouldn't stifle himself when he so often forced others to follow his own way of life instead of their own? But was such a thing so wrong? He only did it out of affection—if others saw how great his friends were, surely they'd try to take them away from him. He only hid their light so others wouldn't be just as amazed by it as he was!

So then, if he let America shine as bright as possible, wouldn't that draw others to him? Then why was he being so helpful toward him? But for once, he didn't want to hide another country. He wanted him to excel, and he wanted to be seen as his friend, too. There was no guarantee that America would want the friendship, but even so, it would make Russia happy to see him grow. This affection… was it how parents would feel? No, he didn't think so. The forcefulness of emotion was similar, but it was different too; he felt another type of attraction to the nation that he couldn't quite grasp yet.

"Hey man, you okay?" America waved his hand in front of Russia's face. "I didn't mean to overstep my boundaries there, but I'm glad you're giving this some thought."

"I apologize, I must have 'spaced out', as you say. And your words do give me pause, but I will dwell on it another time. Anyway, you were mentioning earlier that Arth—I mean, England, failed to show his romantic side. What do you mean by that?" he asked, desperate to change the focus of conversation.

America shifted out of Russia's grasp, covering the movement by grabbing his iPad and plugging it into its charger on the bedside table. "Ah, well, I guess it's old news now, but a long time ago, England and I were… er… together or whatever. It was when I was still a colony. I really cared about him and looked up to him. At first I thought I just felt brotherly love for him, but then I realized that it was more than that. I didn't tell him for the longest time, and we got along well. Even as I grew bigger and stronger than him, I still idolized him.

"Finally I told him how I felt, and he didn't write me off. I was so surprised, and we were happy for a short time. But, he still would give me orders and place unfair regulations on my people, and for a bit I just took it. I realized that that wasn't a healthy relationship for either of us. I don't take well to being controlled. When I rebelled, I didn't want us to end. I just wanted to be on equal footing with him, not as a colony but as a nation. Only then would our relationship be able to grow into something great.

"Unfortunately, he didn't see it that way. He took it bad and cut me off, so of course I fought back. In the aftermath, things were tense. We eventually worked things out and are friends now, but I still remember just how bad he was at the sappy side of things. Maybe it's different with Francis, since they are in love—I was just a quick fling for him, really. I just couldn't imagine him ever saying 'I love you' or giving someone a gift because he missed them or taking care of them when they're sick." He blinked, breaking out of his trance. "Wow, I'm sorry. That was really personal. I only remembered all this yesterday, and it's still kinda weird to realize. You probably didn't want to hear all that. I never told anyone else about it, although France and Matthew picked up on it, I'm sure."

Russia shrugged, and so America continued. "Well, the way he treated me, it's got all the marks of an abusive relationship, when one person has more power than the other and uses it to control them. He'd insult me, we'd fight, but then he'd make me feel bad for him by giving some sob story or apology. But then he'd do it all over again. My emotions were constantly being pulled in every direction, until I just said fuck it. I decided to be selfish for the first time in my life and fully declare my nationhood. And, even though at the time I wanted us to stay together after the Revolution, now I'm glad we didn't. I'm sure even in better circumstances we wouldn't really love each other. Alright, I'll shut up now. Thanks for listening."

"I do not mind. It is helpful to have other people to vent to, is it not?" Russia replied robotically, his mind still stuck on some of America's words, namely the way he had described his and England's relationship as abusive. "I will help you work through this grief; we are friends."

America smiled, his pearly whites shining in the dark of the room. "Thanks, dude. I'm glad to hear it. You know, after England and I made up, I asked him if he thought we, as in all of us nations, could ever fall in love the way our people do. Obviously it wouldn't be as simple without all that buying a house, having babies, and growing old nonsense, but I was curious. And he was super embarrassed, the old prude. He thought I was asking him about sex and went on about how it was natural that I, 'as a young, virile nation' be looking for some outlets for my frustration."

America chuckled drily. "But then I asked him about having a real, committed relationship based on love not lust, one that lasted despite relations between the people's bosses. Like what we had. And then… he…" America choked slightly, shocking Russia as his smile shifted into a frown. "He fucking laughed. He said, 'Our relationship? That wasn't dating. That was kid stuff, we didn't even have sex.' Man, that hurt. I put my all into our relationship, and he didn't even think it was noteworthy, all because I wouldn't sleep with him. If I had… well… I shouldn't think about it. I didn't say anything to him, and I don't think he knows to this day how that affected me. In the physical sense, I grew up really quickly, but my heart was still young and naïve. I laughed back, so that he wouldn't know that I really had cared. It was stupid of me to think that he would ever love me."

Russia had long since forgotten his own musings and was fully focused on America's story. He didn't expect him to be opening up so much, he really was struggling with these regained memories it seemed. "And what do you think, America? Despite England not loving you, do you believe that we nations can love?"

"I don't know. As far as I can remember, I haven't loved anyone. But why shouldn't we be able to? Sure, love can hurt, but it can bring so much happiness. So much unconditional affection. When I see how Germany looks at Italy, or when I visit Sweden and Finland, how can I not believe that we can love? Even with Francis and Arthur, I can tell." He smiled. "Despite it all, I can't wait to fall in love."

"Should such a power as yourself make your weakness known to the world?"

"Weakness? You think loving someone is a weakness? Nah, I don't see it that way. Sure, nations would know who to hurt to get under my skin, but I'm sure they'd be strong enough to fend for themselves, and if not then I'd give my all to bolster them. Of course, it wouldn't be my place to do all the work for them, no nation's pride could accept that."

"So no hero work for you?"

"Not with them. Things have to be equal in a relationship. I can't control them, 'cause I know how it feels to be in that type of situation. But what do you think about all this?"

Russia petted his head affectionately. "I think it's time you get some work done for the day. How about we get some more memories back into you? Even though you were hurt by yesterday's, you learned from it, and you feel better, da?"

"Da. That sounds like a plan. Can I take a shower first?"

"Of course, I'll be downstairs."

"Don't get too comfortable. I'm Alfred Fast-Shower Jones!" his energy had returned, and he jumped off the bed, scooping up some clothes before entering his bathroom. Russia stood, cracking his back and stretching his stiff muscles. France was right about one thing, America was blessed in still having his youth. He hoped the other nation was fortunate enough to get to an age where he had minute physical pains—it was a testament to one's staying power.

True to his word, America was showered and ready to go in only six minutes, clad in some casual shorts and an American flag tank. Russia couldn't stop his eyes from rolling, which only amused America. They made their way back upstairs to the office, settling into the same position in front of the cabinet they had been in before. Taking a deep breath, America stuck the forceps into his head, used to the sting by now. He typed in a series of passcodes before highlighting several files all at once and hitting download.


	4. Chapter 4

**Warnings: blood/gore**

* * *

His physical response did no justice to the pain he felt in that moment. A flood of memories tainted with sadness and anger seeped into every corner of his being. He slapped Russia's hand away and yanked the tool out, throwing the blood covered piece down before stumbling into his office. He tore at his hair and clothes, not minding the scratches his nails were leaving.

This all happened so quickly that Russia didn't know how to react. Before America got to his desk, Russia was upon him; he wrapped his arms around the other in a firm hug. He thrashed in protest, and his broad shoulders proved almost too strong for the Russian.

"Let me go, dammit!" He grabbed a pen off his desk, an impressively sleek metal weapon. With a quick thrust, the pen was through Russia's hand. Such a flesh wound wasn't much for a large nation like him to handle, but America continued to dig and tear with it and he was forced to pull away slightly. America took full advantage, pushing against him before darting out of reach. His face was twisted up, and his breaths were shallow.

"God, just leave already! I'm a fucking monster!" He grabbed a lamp, hurling it towards Russia who was too distracted extracting the pen from his hand to dodge. It crashed against his skull, leaving several gashes from the cracked glass. He glared.

"Calm down, America, you're acting very irrationally right now."

"Irrational? You think that, huh? Well you haven't seen what I've seen. I'll kill them all, I swear it."

"Just talk to me, you can work through your emotions, just like we did earlier. Just explain what you're feeling to me."

"How dare they judge me and laugh at me. I could kill them in a matter of minutes. And they couldn't do shit to me! As if I don't have defenses for those kinds of things... But no, everyone just thinks I'm a lovable idiot! I'm a fucking murderer, and I'm fine with it! I don't care what I have to do, even if I have to trample everyone on my bloody crawl to the top!" With a feral yell, he punched through the wall, his fist entering the hallway. "They always laugh, always mock my mistakes. Well killing _them_ sure won't be a mistake. I killed my own people. You know, you all killed your native populations, but I tried working with them instead. Fat lot of good that did, they're still complaining about their treatment even when I give them free reign of their lands. Should've listened to Jackson more I guess. Each tribe has its own personification, bet you didn't know that. Navajo's the biggest, she's always nagging me about something. God how I'd love to watch her bleed. No matter how small they get they're just so loud!" He paced the room during his tirade, kicking at furniture or throwing things off shelves to accentuate his words.

"And this goddamn election, why are my people so fucking stupid sometimes? I hate them! They're why everyone else hates me! I didn't ask for this! You don't think I want better education? I hate the people, they put the worst people in charge, and they make me look bad. And in the end doesn't it always comes back to me?" Now tears fell from his eyes as he shouted. He raised a fist and brought it down, smashing a small figurine. Bits of glass stuck in his hand which he raised back up before striking his head repeatedly, muttering "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" with each blow. The pieces were opening his skin up, so Russia moved to him quickly.

A quick click made Russia freeze, as America withdrew a revolver from the back of his waistband. "Don't you come closer, or I'll shoot…" he winced, then clutched as his head. "So stupid, why are you helping me! I'm no good, I'm terrible, I'm stupid and ugly and fat and I just don't want anyone around me ever! You do nothing but hurt me and taunt me but who can blame you, since I'm so fucking stupid all the time!" He was in hysterics, waving his gun around while carving himself up with his glass-filled hand. Finally he froze, with the barrel of the gun resting against his head. "May as well just do it, that'd be fun for you to watch I'm sure, you've always hated me. Everyone has, they're just jealous. Why? I don't know, I'm so stupid… You could watch me bleed out, but sadly for you and me, even a bullet wound to the head doesn't work. Trust me, I've tried. Each time, my body is too strong it just spits it back out. What a waste of ammo." Despite his words, he pulled the trigger, the boom echoing in the large room. Russia was able to catch him before he hit the floor, and he saw the lights fade from his eyes. Before the other nation woke back up, Russia settled him in his chair. He rushed downstairs and managed to find some rope in a storage closet. He tied the nation to the chair, hoping it would strong enough to hold him. Just in case, he duct-taped his hands and ankles together. Perhaps it would provide enough time at least for the nation to calm down.

America was out for only ten minutes before he began to stir. Blood was still oozing from the bullet hole, but stopped for a moment before a silver metal capsule fell out. The skin repaired itself immediately once the foreign object was expelled. He groaned, "Man this is a killer headache. I hit some important things in there. But of course, I can't even kill myself right." He struggled against the rudimentary restraints. "The hell is this for?"

"America, I only did this for your own safety."

"Yeah, I'm sure you care so much about my safety. You'd all love to see me fall. You'd be the first to swoop in and defile my land, kill my people and plant your flag in the ground soaked with their blood. And fucking England would be next. He only ever cared about my vital regions anyway. Him and France would be so happy to see me gone, the problem child of the group. They never even cared about what Matthew was doing unless I was involved. How can people be so damn selfish?" He tugged at his ties, the rope breaking audibly. The tape was proving trickier to break and America found himself crying from frustration. "God why'd I do such a good job with this invention but I can't stop my people from murdering each other when it's their job to be protecting them?" He scoffed. "Speaking of God, where is that fucker? Aren't I supposed to be 'one nation, under Him'? Well I must be under him with the way he's been fucking me over all this time. What kind of God would do this to a nation, huh?"

After several more minutes of struggling, he finally tore through the tape, leaving red marks when he had been bound. He fell the floor, lazily lifting his head and letting it fall on the hardwood with a dull thud. He kept this up several times in an effort to harm himself more, but Russia was having none of it. He plucked the nation up from the ground, and he pouted but had no energy left to resist. Done with his tantrum it seemed, Russia carried America to his bed, settling him into the blankets.

Russia moved to leave but his arm was caught by the blond's. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?" his voice was rough.

"I was going to let you sleep since you tired yourself out."

"No you won't, get over here."

"Why would I do that?"

America huffed, "Please? I'm sorry for lashing out. I'm just dealing with things still, and I'm upset. My head is so warm right now, I'm seeing red. Those files, I can't even remember the specifics right now but I just know that I'm angry. I need a… a friend right now. Can you just… I don't know… hold me till I fall asleep? It probably won't take that long honestly."

Russia answered by placing himself next to the youth, wrapping his arms around his trembling form. Within minutes, he was asleep, and though he had permission to leave at this point, Russia didn't have any intention of doing so. Pulling a blanket over the both of them, he shut his eyes and let himself nap, once again blaming the jet lag for his show of weakness.

The pair snoozed lazily for twenty peaceful minutes, after which Russia stirred. On opening his eyes, he found two large red orbs staring back at him.

"Well don't you look so nice together, sitting pretty like a fucking pair of turtle doves."

"Keep it down, Tony, he's sleeping. Thanks for all your help, by the way."

The alien nodded sympathetically, "I'm a gelatinous humanoid creature without a skull protecting my dome—do you really think I'd be able to stand up to Alfred's strength? Like I said, you're the only one with the ability to help him, both physically and emotionally. I'm not sure what exactly set him off, but the speed with which he downloaded things probably didn't help. I bet when he wakes up he won't even remember the things he said. I know for a fact that Alfred isn't that bitter at heart. He would never dream of hurting England or any of the other nations. He's one of the few who believes that his people can become successful and happy in a world where other nations thrive as well. He doesn't see this all as a competition between nations, he values his people's lives too much to degrade them that way."

"I figured as much. America doesn't make a habit of intentionally harming others. He usually has some reasoning behind it, even if it's not right in hindsight. But he'd never crush a nation just for the sake of dominance. He grew up in a time where such things were growing out of fashion. He never had to take the life of another nation just so that he could survive. Sure, he's dealt great blows to nations, sometimes unnecessary ones, but he hasn't seen what many of us older nations have seen."

Tony nodded again. "Indeed. My people of course have seen all that you nations have accomplished in your many years. We've always watched with great interest, but never intervened. It wasn't until Alfred declared his independence that we thought to send a message. And after he proved himself not only to be a vibrant idealist but also someone capable of enacting change, I was sent to him. I know he makes many mistakes and his people can be idiots, but like you said, he is so young and blessed in that he remains relatively innocent. However, in this day and age, should he ever choose to strike another nation, it would be relentless and as I said, the world would suffer. He is the linchpin when it comes to the survival of humanity. His rally cries for peace, disarmament, and cooperation are the only ones that will inspire the other nations, and if it comes down to it, he's the only one with the massive amount of resources to persuade those against him to reconsider."

Russia's mind was racing. How could a nation as simple as America be considered so special to an outsider? Surely an older, wiser nation would be better. Of course, he believed himself to be an ideal candidate, but even if not him, plenty of other nations had good connections and better track records so that they could enact a change. The fact that these aliens thought America was the only one with the ability was laughable.

"I know what you're thinking, you vain bastard, and I'll have none of it. The fact that you're still here helping him shows that part of you also thinks he's got something special. Isn't it odd that after all you've been through, he's still able to affect you this way? That's his gift, he brings warmth to those he cares about. Even though he's forgotten just how much he cared about you, I think deep down he knows—or, maybe he's making new memories and his feelings for you are developing anew, how the fuck should I know? You can lie all you want but I know you're feeling something. The only thing I can recommend is that you stick with him through this grieving process, no matter how his grief chooses to manifest itself. I have to leave for a few days, talk to my boss and update him on all this. I'm going to trust you with him."

He was tempted to question the alien's assumptions as to his emotional state, but knew that it would be a pointless and redundant conversation. Instead, on remembering something, he asked, "Have you tried returning his heart to him? Perhaps that will help with his ability to deal with these things."

He shook his head, "We tried this morning, I think that's what made him so upset earlier. The thing was so hard to the touch, we'll have to get it in soon. It's odd though, even without it he's so emotionally expressive. He's opening up, there's an authentic passion in him that I haven't seen in years. It's as if his mind and body are calling out to his heart in the only language it can understand, and I think soon it will answer." He reached into his… pocket? Of flesh? Russia wasn't sure how that worked and he didn't want to know. Withdrawing the heart, he set it in Russia's waiting hand. "Keep this safe. Try to put it back in as soon as possible."

Russia nodded. "You said you haven't seen him so truly emotional in years… just how long has he been doing this thing with his memories?"

"Hmm maybe going on ten years now. After 9/11 he went a bit crazy, paranoid about every little thing and more than a bit trigger happy. It brought him back to what happened with you, how he was afraid of his own shadow and so hurt from your rejection. I guess before then he had blocked it out. Of course, same as the last time he distracted himself with wars and work and his own research projects, but one day, he snapped. After a gruesome day in battle, along with some nasty stuff going on back home, he had something akin to a PTSD attack, and that's when I offered him help. He smiled so much for a while, I thought it had been a good idea and that it would be best for him. But then I realized how fake it all was. Like I said, he made that machine behind my back, I only found out about it a year or so ago. My people weren't so helpful about it, they thought that he'd be just fine on this path. But they don't know him like I do, or love him the way I've grown to… They don't understand just how vulnerable nations are. They think you guys are like superhumans, not just in the physical sense, but mentally and emotionally too. I knew only us on Earth could reach out to him and save him.

"Anyway, I need to get going. Catch you later, dweeb," and with that, a bright blue beam shone around the alien. In a matter of seconds, the light faded, and with it Tony was gone.

Finally alone with his thoughts, the Russian felt slightly overwhelmed. In the span of two days he had learned more about America than he'd ever cared to know. No, that wasn't true. Long ago he'd been curious, but without a heart there was little one could do to reach out to another nation in a way that wasn't cold. The past for him… it was so long, so lonely, and so devoid of warmth. If he remembered all the awful things he'd seen and done, he too would be haunted. But, with his age, the more gruesome memories had all but faded. And going through all that with little public documentation also contributed to his forgetfulness. Perhaps the younger nations had it harder, with all their misdeeds so quickly broadcasted and judged before they could solve them, he thought. And America, still just an adolescent, forced not only onto the world stage, but onto its throne. A throne which shone so bright, but whose gilded edges hid a harsh and unforgiving seat. The bad thing about thrones is that one cannot just step down from one so easily—they are forcibly claimed by another, leaving the previous occupant to wither away in defeat and disgrace. Surely America knows this, as it would explain his constant stress and desire to please others. Still, no matter how much others may seem to like you, they'd like you more when able to look down on you, or so Russia thoroughly believed.

With that thought in mind, he made a plan. He would do as Tony asked, helping America regain his memories and listening to him as he coped with the pain. He would return his heart to him, and then he would seek out those wishing to push America from his throne and crush them before they got the chance. As far as everyone else, especially his boss, knew, he would merely be clearing the playing field for his and America's end game. But, no one would know till it was too late that his end game would leave two nations standing, two thrones with two kings finally seeing eye to eye. For the first time in centuries, the thought of his future made Ivan smile. He clutched the younger nation closer to him and planted a chaste kiss on his forehead. He rose, giving one last smile to his new charge before exiting his home. He left a note so as not to upset the younger nation whenever he awoke then made his way to his home. He knew his boss would still be awake as he was currently meeting with America's boss. He had a proposition that needed to be made as soon as possible.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning wasn't kind to Alfred, his muscles felt sore—from the middle of the night onward he had become plagued with nightmares, and his body naturally tensed up. He ended up waking up covered in sweat and with a sharp pain in his leg.

"Ah fuck! Charlie horse!" he called out to no one. He wrestled with his damp sheets, finally dislodging himself from the trap. With a loud cry he rolled out of bed and somehow landed on his feet. Standing straight, he flexed and stretched the muscle burning inside of him. After a few seconds of placing weight on it, the pain died down. He glanced at his bedside clock, surprised at the hour. Just his luck, he was up with more than enough time to make today's meeting. He entered his bathroom, struggling to remember his dreams as well as what had happened the day before. He remembered watching _Pride and Prejudice_ with Russia, then going to his office to get some memories. There was a burst of red, and that's all he remembers. Before he passed out for the night, there was a subtle presence with him in bed—was it Russia? That didn't make much sense.

The warm water fell around him as he scrubbed away the light layer of sweat on his skin. Tired of trying to remember the events of yesterday, he sought instead to bring to consciousness which memories he had added most recently. He knew it was a lot, but he couldn't distinguish them from what had already been in place. Whatever they were, he was having a hard time finding anything happy. The closest he could find was the recent memory of him and Russia, cuddled up watching the rain scene where Darcy declared his love. The image brought a smile to Alfred's face, and he felt a strange stirring in his chest.

 _Joy_. He recognized it. It'd been a while since he'd felt it so deeply. Tony had explained to him that without any memories of the bad times, it would be impossible to truly appreciate the good times. He'd maintained an air of shallow happiness for so long—it was so easy to laugh before, to shout his every fleeting thought and find something funny in it. Laughter seemed so far from him at the moment, but just this simple smile was worth more than those years of empty grins. He shut off the water, toweling himself off before heading to his kitchen.

He was hoping to whip up a quick omelet, but unfortunately Italy hadn't stocked his fridge with eggs. There was however an abundance of tomatoes. Feeling a bit guilty for his binging yesterday, America took the plumpest fruit and bit into it like an apple. He also found enough dried pasta to feed a large army, however, so set some water on the stove to boil. Hell, he was far from picky. He'd eaten Lean Cuisines and ramen for breakfast and an egg-bacon-hash brown-cheese scramble for a midnight snack too many times to count. His stomach was resilient and it had no clock!

Neither did his liver, apparently, as he helped himself to a large bottle of red wine. He wasn't a huge fan of the stuff; if given a choice he'd prefer white wine. But he'd grown used to it growing up with France and with his many trips to Europe. He didn't mind drinking a few bottles of the cheapest for a pregame when out clubbing with Poland and Canada.

While his pasta cooked and in between sips of wine, he fished his phone out from the couch cushions. Luckily, he had left it on the charger so he was able to scroll through the many worried messages from the day before. None were too interesting, and he shot everyone a text that he'd be at the meeting on time today. Germany replied immediately, conveying his happiness at America's returned health and reminding him of his second presentation of the summit. Alfred cursed, leaping to his feet and sprinting to his office.

He had prepared his presentation weeks ago, but looking at it, he realized that it was rather misinformed; he had no choice but to scrap it completely, and he got to typing immediately, only stopping to grab his pasta from the burner and to open a second bottle of wine.

An hour later he was satisfied with what he'd written. Unfortunately he didn't have enough time to create any media with it, so he'd just have to give the speech on its own. He was confident in his topic and rhetoric, however, and knew he'd be able to engage his audience. With one last swig of his wine, he printed the document, using the time to finally change out of his towel.

In his closet, he felt less confident. He could wear his usual outfit, but looking at it, it felt a bit too casual for him. These conferences were of course a way for countries to share ideas and become closer, but the unspoken truth was that summits were the ideal place to scope out the competition, be they friends or enemies. While Alfred didn't have any animosity toward the countries present this year, he still wanted to make a good impression and maybe subtly remind people that he was a military force to be reckoned with. Plus, he would need the extra respect if he wanted his presentation to have any effect. He tossed his green fatigues and bomber jacket to the side, reaching into the back for his Naval Full Dress uniform. He eyed himself with pride in the mirror, straightening his many ribbons and medals on the lapel. A sword gleamed at his hip—a bit of a melodramatic touch, he'd admit, but still striking nonetheless. His eyes shone bright in contrast to the deep blue suit. He slid the white hat and gloves on before setting out, the bill easily hiding his unruly tresses.

* * *

Most of the nations were already present five minutes before nine. All the European nations were there, all of them chatting with a friend. Russia was also present, smiling calmly as the others avoided him. He had had a long conversation with his boss the previous night, who eventually came to agree with Russia's demands—not like he had a choice anyway. The personifications had a strength that their bosses could never match: their wills seeped into the very land they represented, growing in the hearts of the rising generation. Sure, their true power took years to ever develop enough to make a difference in the country's system of governance, but it always came to be. Even if his boss had refused, Russia would only have to wait a few decades for all his wishes to be granted by a new boss filled with his "own" ideas. They never knew that it was the nation's fleeting thoughts that made them who they were in end.

He was so lost in his contented thoughts that he failed to notice the silence that shot through the room. A small gasp from France woke him from his reverie, and he noticed that all the nations were staring at the door. He followed their gaze, startling at the sight.

There America stood, his noble form against the elegant marble door. With hand casually placed on his decorative sword, his smirk spoke volumes to the room. It wasn't considered impolite to come to the meetings in full military garb, per se, but it wasn't common practice. It was evident that he had wanted to send a message. He strode toward his seat, his medals swinging with each step. By the time he sat, directly across from Russia, the other countries had resumed their conversations, though their voices were strained, as if they were afraid that a loud remark would offend the mighty nation.

He had never seen America look so serious as he settled into his seat, folding his hands in front of himself as he waited for the meeting to start. Normally his friends would have already approached him for conversation, but people were avoiding him. Russia met America's gaze, both nations surrounded by a buffer of empty space. America nodded at the other, and Russia smiled.

France saw this exchange, then whispered something to Canada in French. Before Canada could blush, America had appeared behind France.

"Bonjour, mon ami, que vous etes drole! Mais, cette remarque est trop vulgaire pour le matin, n'est-ce pas?" ( _Hello, my friend, how funny! But, that comment's too vulgar for the morning, don't you think?)_ He clamped his gloved hand on France's shoulder, pressing down harder than necessary.

France paled at the words, unable to even detect a hint of an accent from America. Canada stared in shock. Of course, he knew that Alfred could speak French, but he never expected him to use it to France himself, and at a world meeting of all places. Other nations watched the scene with interest, not sure what to make of the American's choice of language. Even the ones not fluent in French couldn't misunderstand the threatening gleam in his eye.

Finally the long-haired nation gulped. "Ah, I apologize Amerique. You know me, I have no filter." He laughed nervously.

America's chuckle was just as dry. "Bien sur. ( _Of course)_ Well, I just don't want you corrupting my brother, as I've told you before. I'm not too offended by it, but some other nations could be sensitive to it. Since we're such good friends, I'll always forgive you for it. Just don't let me hear you slandering me again and things will be just fine." He smiled, an expression so cold that Russia almost found himself shivering. Russia knew how to intimidate, and when he "Kol Kol Kol"ed under his breath, everyone ran. But America's look was scarier because he seemed so genuine. His eyes were bright and attentive, and while he didn't glow with a purple aura, something unseen seemed to be affecting France who shirked away in fear before fleeing to his seat. The clock chimed nine o'clock, and America was back in his seat before the melody finished.

Spain volunteered first to take the podium, enthusiastically sharing the progress of his own cultural restoration program. He gushed about his source of inspiration, "the lovely and brilliant Romano" before detailing his plans for language preservation in rural schools. He had already been met with some notable success, but things were going slow. He concluded by asking for suggestions—a stupid move in Russia's opinion; these meetings rarely were collaborative, nations just bragged or complained. Rarely would a nation offer assistance at a request. They'd have to make sure it was okay with their boss first of all, and then it wasn't wise to reveal their secrets to success.

Thus America further shocked everyone when he raised his hand and cleared his throat. Even Spain was surprised, as he was packing up his documents and returning to his seat within seconds of his question.

"Er, yes, America?" he stammered but managed to smile.

"I think contributing funds to your public schools is a great idea, and that kind of intervention usually has positive effects as we've seen from your report, and even China has mentioned similar findings in his country. However, I think it would be wise to consider more privatized options for this. For example, one of my native nations mentioned to me that she feared her language was dying, even as the largest of the tribes that I have. She reached out to some movie producers and they struck a deal, creating Navajo translations of a popular children's movie—one of my personal favorites. Anyway, such a collaboration with people in charge of providing widely distributed materials with numerous translations could help. Plus, it creates greater employment opportunities for voice actors who may only speak Catalan, in your case. We're hoping to explore this option further ourselves, but already we've gotten positive feedback from the tribes and others interested in linguistics. Incentives for greater diversity in language transmission are being considered."

Everyone stared. Usually America's remarks during meetings were childish and utterly useless. But here he was, presenting some sound advice to another nation. Spain finally gathered his words. "You know, that could work. I don't make nearly as many movies as you, of course, but I can definitely look into that. Meanwhile, if you're interested, maybe we can work together. Your movies are pretty popular in my house too, and if your industry ever wants to consider catering to Catalan speakers, that'd be amazing."

America smiled, this one much less chilling than his previous one. "I'd have to speak with my people about it, but I'd be honored." Spain cheered before bounding over to America. He graced the younger nation with a hug, kissing his cheek in an emotional display.

America grinned, not bothered as his cap was bumped askew. "Alright, alright! Get off me before Romano kills me," he laughed heartily. England started at the sound, sending a confused glance toward his former charge. Russia wasn't sure what he was thinking, but he looked worried.

Germany cleared his throat. "Thank you, Spain, for that report. And thanks for the suggestion, America. I hope we all remember this idea, as we all struggle with losing cultures and languages. Alright, who would like to go next?" He was met with silence. "Very well, I shall go." He replaced Spain at the podium, delivering a long and boring speech about his efforts with the surplus of refugees fleeing war-torn regions. Russia wrote down a few words that sounded interesting, but mainly tuned it out; he and his boss were satisfied with their own immigration policies, and he had little interest in what the German had to say. It was amusing to watch the other EU members visibly bristle as Germany announced his reforms in defiance of the Dublin Regulation, however.

At his conclusion, America politely raised his hand once more. Throughout the 35 minute speech, America had taken only a few notes, though he had looked to be paying rapt attention. Germany acknowledged his hand. Everyone was interested in what he had to say, as his government had hardly been having success with immigration reform when dealing with their southern neighbors, and the situation overseas wasn't helping with creating policy changes.

"I unfortunately don't have any advice to offer for this situation. We've had many a long night trying to form the best plan of action for not only war refugees but all immigrants. It's not in my best interest to turn people away, even in light of recent terrorist attacks. No, _especially_ in light of those attacks. These refugees are fleeing the same people who many of us here are fighting against. I guess I just want to commend your efforts, Germany. I know you've had many nations in opposition to your proposals, you've surely thrown the rest of the EU into a tizzy over this," he chuckled. Germany blushed at the comment, all too aware of the flack he'd received but embarrassed that a country would mention it in the presence of other EU members. "But what you're doing is great. These people deserve to not have to fear for their lives on a daily basis. While my people are a bit harder to persuade, I can offer you some assistance in community planning—I've got a few professors back home seeking to design energy-efficient housing options for just these types of situations. If you're interested, we could discuss this later." He turned to the rest of the room. "And for any other nation interested in these ideas, I suggest we form a committee during our short two weeks together. I'm convinced that we can come up with a solution that our bosses will approve of. And if they don't there's strength in numbers so if enough of us get behind it, how can they refuse?" He flashed a charming smile.

"Thank you for your support, America," he smiled. "It's been a few years since we've had to make an impromptu committee, and for a worthy cause." He cleared his throat again. "I, the Federal Republic of Germany, move to create a committee dedicated to solving the refugee crisis. The committee is open to all nations present and will remain in operation until the end of this year's world summit. At the conclusion of the summit, should the members of the committee so choose, an officially recognized treaty may be formed. As is stated in the summit bylaws, all committees are to be attended by nations only. Leaders and other government figures may not hear the results until the final published report. In addition, leaders will not be informed when their nation enters into a committee as this is not an official treaty. The only commitment members have is to attend additional meetings, times and dates to be determined, in addition to regular summit meetings. They are not obligated to carry out the plans or present to their bosses if they come to disagree with the final plan."

"I, the United States of America, second the movement," America nodded.

"Very well, the committee has been created. Should anyone wish to join, please raise your hand." Several countries raised their hands, among them Turkey, Greece, Egypt, Sweden, the Italian brothers, Canada, France, England, Poland, and of course America. Germany wrote the names down after he returned to his seat.

America glanced across the table, "What about you, Russia? Care to join?"

Russia blinked. He hadn't expected the direct address, or any kind of invitation. It was usually assumed that Russia wouldn't get involved in these kinds of things. He hadn't even been required to give presentations for years, not since he started to curse the other nations as part of his speech. Since then he was given little to no responsibilities during the summits.

"Hello?" America asked. "Earth to Russia! You should join us."

"Erm, why's that?" he asked.

"Good question," England grumbled into his tea cup. America shot him an annoyed glare.

"Because your home's already very attractive to immigrants. Your population is aging. You need young immigrants, be they refugees or not. So if you want a slice of this action, you should get in on the ground floor."

He thought about it for a moment. It wasn't so long ago that America's boss had scoffed at Russia's immigration policies, calling him irrelevant, even though he was second only to America in number of immigrants housed. "Very well, I shall join."

"Awesome! We've got a good group! So, the final day of the summit will consist of our presentation, after which other nations can enter their names to be considered for inclusion in the implementation." He gave a cheesy thumbs up, his behavior seeming to become more normal. The room let out a sigh of relief.

"Anyway," America continued. "I'm good to present next. Although, isn't it time for our snack break?" He smiled, "Ah, here they are." Sure enough, the caterers burst into the room, their bountiful carts releasing their alluring scents. As usual, America was on them immediately. He scooped up some crepes and fruit before dashing toward his brother. He snatched him by the arm, silencing his protests by stuffing an apple into his mouth. The pair exited the conference room, making their way to a private room while munching on snacks.

Russia knew it would be impossible to follow them given America's newfound observation skills, so instead he distracted himself with some snacks. He wandered the room, soon finding himself sitting next to England.

"What do you want?" the nation glared, ever the gentleman.

"I merely wish to ask you a question. I couldn't help but notice something odd earlier."

"Yeah? Catch your reflection in the marble, did you?" he quipped.

"Nyet, I caught your momentary expression of shock. All because of little America's laughter. Why was that?"

England rolled his eyes, "Leave it to you to notice such unimportant things. It was only because he was acting so strangely. Everyone sees it. He's using his influence, commanding respect without having done anything to deserve it. And it works every time. I was just surprised he'd be so chummy with Spain despite his little show of strength."

Russia was rather adept at detecting liars, and he knew England was doing just that. He also knew that the Brit was an easy one to crack. "Is that so? You find him scary I take it?" Purple glowed around him. "I can assure you that I am the one you should fear right now. I do not take kindly to liars, England."

His eyes widened, "Bloody hell! Fine, you loon! I don't see why this is important to you, nor do I think you'll understand. It's just, when he laughed, there was something different about it, but familiar. I guess it just reminded me of how he used to laugh, decades ago. I'm sure you remember him during World War I. I didn't notice till then, but I guess it's been a few years since I've heard his genuine laughter. I never thought anything of it, he was always laughing at something it seemed. But looking back, I guess those laughs have been fake for a while, now that I've been reminded of his genuine one." His cheeks were pink. "Like I said, nothing you'd understand."

Russia grinned, "Of course not, you were correct as always. I will leave you to your tea." He returned to his seat, pondering the words. He was surprised that England was so attuned to his old colony as to recognize such subtle changes. And he was flustered by it, of all things. Perhaps this new America was awakening feelings in the Englishman. Instead of becoming jealous, he relished the thought of having another opponent to eliminate.

The break concluded just as Canada silently settled into his chair. America went straight to the podium, carrying several sheets of paper and a glass of water. He took a small sip and coughed to clear his throat, then began.

* * *

 **A/n: cliffy AF! also, i'm not trying to mention super specific current events, though i would assume it's pretty obvious what i'm referring to. i'm trying not to take sides when i'm writing other nations though, even if i do have my opinions pretty settled on certains matters. if you care, America's eating habits are inspired by my own. :P college man, it'll get ya.**


	6. Chapter 6

It was a masterful display of rhetoric. His voice was proud and steady, passion increasing with each sentence. He didn't look at his notes once, instead making eye contact with all of the present nations. He presented his arguments in a sound and precise manner, presenting solutions that appealed to everyone in a specific way. He outlined his future reforms, making grand promises that everyone immediately believed he would keep. Some were more controversial than others, but he easily assuaged anyone's doubts before they could take root in their minds. Even Greece stayed awake for it; everyone was enraptured by his words. So taken were they that not one person could tear themselves away from his forceful gaze to take notes. But it wasn't as if they'd forget his words anytime soon. None dared to interrupt, not even to cough or sneeze or shift in their seat. At the conclusion, Mexico clapped, rising to his feet. The other countries soon followed his example, and America the brave had the audacity to blush.

Russia had never felt more impressed by another in his life. His heart was rattling around uncomfortably, so unused to being moved in such a way. He joined in the clapping. The clock rang out its noontime tune. He started—had America really been talking for over an hour? With one speech he solidified himself as the most powerful nation. If anyone had doubts before, there's no way they could now. To do so would be to live in a false reality. It didn't upset him; while his name was always thrown in the mix when discussing the greatest world power, he could see that in the face of America, such a title would never avail itself to him. And he didn't mind it at all.

He found himself approaching the nation. He of course was surrounded by friends, now less reserved around him. Russia saw them for what they all were, however: leeches. They were drawn to his power, but only when they saw that it could help them. Just a few hours before they feared him. Now they respected him as well as his promises of prosperity for allies.

America was the first country to notice him. He excused himself from his conversation with Prussia who balked at the newcomer. "Oh, hey Russia. How's it going?"

"I am well, and you? You seem to have recovered well from yesterday."

"Yes I have, thanks to you! Hey, how about I take you out to lunch to thank you for checking up on me? I'll let you pick, although I should relay a recommendation from Italy himself for this lovely restaurant near the city square. Extremely authentic and not touristy in the slightest, he says."

"That sounds delightful, but it was no trouble at all to check up on you."

"Regardless, I'm sure you're just as hungry as me! We better get going if we want to have enough time. Thank goodness lunch breaks are so long to accommodate the siesta-takers here."

"You're welcome!" Spain called out as he sidled over to steal Prussia before rejoining France.

"Lead the way then, friend," Russia smiled. America complied happily.

* * *

Both nations were impressed with the penthouse restaurant overlooking the heart of Venice. America had been expecting a quaint little place, not such a luxurious affair. He was surprised they were even open for lunch. But, it offered a great degree of privacy as well as an admittedly romantic view, which was fine by both.

They were settled into a private booth near the back. America confessed that he'd much prefer a seat on the balcony in the sun, but for security reasons it was best that the two not be seen together by any reporters. America removed his cap and gloves, setting them on the bench beside him. He ran a finger through his hair, letting the strands fall as they may. His usual cowlick stood at attention, seeming happy to be free from the offensive hat.

"So, first of all, thanks again for dealing with me yesterday. I have to say, I, um, don't really remember a lot of what happened after the office. I just woke up feeling incredibly tense. I remember a lot of red. Judging by how beat up my office looked and the blood all around, I'm guessing I wasn't easy to deal with."

"You were pretty angry," Russia replied simply.

He looked sheepish, "I figured. I didn't even have time to check which files caused such a reaction. Hopefully on seeing them I won't be thrown into such a fit again. I hope I didn't say anything too harsh."

"You were professing your desire to kill all of your closest friends."

He didn't even flinch at the information, only nodded. "While I'd never act on such sentiments, I won't lie and say that that surprises me. Drunk words are sober thoughts, and being drunk on anger is equally as potent, I guess.

"Regardless, you're a good friend for standing by me. I hope that our interactions these past few days speak well to our nation's future relations." He raised a fist toward Russia. "I don't have anything to toast with yet, so a fist bump will have to do. To Russia and America. May our friendship never die."

Russia bumped the other's fist, not familiar with the odd action. "Ivan," he mumbled into his scarf.

Of course America heard him, as evident by his reddening cheeks. "What was that?"

Russia straightened slightly. "Since we're on good terms, I think it'd be fine for you to call be Ivan. In fact, I'd prefer it." America was silent for a few moments, and Russia feared that he'd overstepped his boundaries. "I mean, you don't have—"

"No, it's alright. Sorry, Ivan." His name sounded pleasant coming from the other. "I was actually just thinking earlier today that I should start being a bit more serious. I didn't chat idly as much as I usually do during meetings, and I stuck to safe, businessy topics. I didn't even call France by his name. I feel like it's, I don't know, less respectful to call each other by names at meetings. Of course, in privacy it's not a problem, it's not as if I don't respect you," he rambled. Finally, he nodded. "Alright, then you've no choice but to call me Alfred. Although, if you don't mind, could we just keep the name-calling between us?"

"Of course, I understand," he replied. "You wouldn't want people associating you with me."

America picked up on the sad tone and waved his arms, "No, it's not like that! I just don't want anyone using my real name at meetings for a bit. It makes me feel like a kid without any power. I want them all to remember who they're dealing with. In fact, I'd prefer people call me the United States at least, seeing as America is rather confusing. However, it's an old habit so that probably won't change anytime soon."

Finally their waitress arrived, apologizing for the wait and handing them some menus. She took their drink orders and returned to the kitchen.

"So, Alfred," he smiled at the name. "I forgot to congratulate you earlier on your successful contributions to today's meeting."

He waved a hand, "Oh, stop. I threw that together this morning while just a little bit tipsy. It was stuff I think I'd had building up inside me, but with what I was doing to my head, it evaded me for a while. Now that I'm remembering things, I think it's about time I got my act together, as well as everyone else. We've become rather complacent, dealing with problems only when they become huge affairs and never taking proper preventative measures. I know I'm hardly the best person to advocate for not heading into things without taking a long hard look at things, so I'm glad people were receptive to what I had to say."

"Da, it was impressive. I was shocked your brief conversation with Canada was enough to foster such a policy change."

"Yeah, I had the suggestion in my speech already, but I thought it'd be polite to get his opinion. We had to have a quick conference call with our bosses, and while they were annoyed at the late hour, they came to agree to the change. We both benefit from it, and, I'll tell you a secret: we all know that I've got some crazy conservatives in certain regions back home. It's not too hard to manipulate the travel markets to make these spots tourist destinations. With an influx of Canadians into those places, I'm hoping some dialogue can occur. His people are much more liberal, and super charming to boot. I'm hoping to change my own people's perspective by forcing them to open up their narrow worldview and realize just how different and important other perspectives are."

"Does Canada know of your ulterior motive?"

"Nah, but it's hardly anything sinister. With this type of Schengen Agreement between our countries, we'll become closer and our economies will benefit. Plus it'll make visiting him a whole lot easier. The only downside is that I'll have to come up with a much better name!"

"You and your brother are already very close, others might think this proposal is of another sort…"

America smiled, "Oh, that's just ridiculous. I love Matthew, how could I not? He's the sweetest most unimposing thing around. But, it's all brotherly. Just as I now feel for France and England. No matter how close I get to them, I could never, uh, fully connect with them. Which is apparently very important for nations, as France has told me recently. I just don't get the appeal myself."

Russia blinked. "You don't get the appeal… of sex?" he asked, incredulous.

America sipped at his Sprite. "Oh come off it, it's not that odd. I get that it feels good or whatever and it helps you connect with your partner. But it's not as if nations use it that way anymore. France will fuck anything, even Matthew's rather promiscuous. Ah I'm sorry, this is kind of a strange conversation. Talking about sex in a beautiful Italian restaurant in the middle of the day—it's like an episode of _Sex and the City_!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Russia huffed, more interested in the personal topic of before.

"You should really watch some of my shows, instant classics."

"Perhaps I will. But, I do not mind your musings, whatever the topic. This is what friends do, they talk."

"True, but I've been doing all the talking so far! Very well, what's your opinion on it?"

Russia had a few seconds to gather his thoughts as the waitress returned to take their orders. After she left, he shrugged, "Sex with another nation is not so significant to me, but it is a pleasurable action with immediate and tangible benefits."

America nodded, "So it's just the physical stuff you care about it? I guess I'm just more into the emotional side of things. Ideally, it should be a manifestation of emotional codependence and physical attraction, I think. And, big surprise, I'm back to talking about love. I guess that's what happens when a romantic nation realizes just how lonely he's become," he frowned. "You know, you never answered my question yesterday, about your opinion on nations falling in love."

"Of course I believe we can."

"Have you ever been in love?"

"I'm… not sure. Perhaps I was once, long ago. But I didn't act on it, and things were strained with us."

America chuckled, "No offense, but your relationships with most nations are pretty strained."

Russia smiled, "But not ours, look at us speaking so openly with each other. It is nice."

"I agree. I can always talk a lot with my family, but I feel like they're always ready to judge any wrong opinion or make fun of me when I say something as naïve as all this. But you don't, why is that?"

"You're not the only lonely country. And I think you've opened my eyes to the reality of my loneliness. But, you've also shown me that it's not impossible to amend old ties and make a friend."

"You know, I bet we both just need to get laid, but only with someone we love. A lasting relationship. Then we'll have a constant companion as well as the appropriate physical stimulation. See, I could get into the physical bits if there's an emotional connection. Is it weird that I'm more turned on by smut-free romance novels over porn? Eh, I blame Disney for my unrealistic expectations of my prince charming."

"Prince? Not princess?"

America rolled his eyes, "You know as well as I that nation's sexuality is rather fluid. It's not as if I've never been drawn to a woman, I mean have you met Hungary? Plus even a blind man couldn't ignore your—er, I mean, yes Hungary! She's an attractive woman! And the only one for sure," he chuckled nervously as Russia glared at the near slip up, certain that America was about to speak of his sisters' beauty.

"Anyway, I guess lately I've been thinking that'd it make more sense to be with someone much more similar to me. And at the moment, the only nations that that describes are men."

Russia was interested in this list of potential suitors America had apparently been dwelling on, but the waitress had arrived with the first course of their meal. They both munched at their salads, nursing their respective glasses of prosecco. America had insisted on an aperitivo, even though it was a practice more usual during evening meals. Their conversation shifted to less heavy topics, such as the food and the sudden turn of weather.

"I guess it was a good thing we weren't outside, it's really coming down out there." His phone buzzed, and he glanced at the screen. "Excuse me, it's Germany. Do you mind if I take it here?" Russia shook his head, and America pressed answer. "Hello? Yeah, it's me. I'm near the square, at the place Italy mentioned. Hmm? Oh hello Italy, yes we really enjoyed it. I'm with Russia." He laughed. "Of course. I understand. What about the committee meeting? I can host for dinner, it's not a problem. Yeah, sounds good, I'll let him know. See you later."

"What was that about?"

"Turns out the roads are pretty bad right now, so the meeting has been cancelled for the rest of the day." He prodded his dessert around his plate. "I offered to host the committee meeting tonight at my place since it wouldn't require as much travel for the other nations."

"Very well, that works for me."

"Cool. So, after lunch do you wanna hang out some more? Maybe we can get some more memories in me before the meeting? And I can introduce you to Carrie and friends so you can lead a much more fulfilled life from now on."

Russia agreed to the arrangement, and after paying the pair left the restaurant. They were able to hail a cab despite the horrible conditions, and slowly made their way to America's house. After a long drive during which America placed calls to the other committee members, they arrived. They shuffled out of their wet clothes, and America went upstairs to change, offering new socks and a large sweater to Russia who gladly accepted.

Clad in a pair of black slacks and a smart shirt and sweater combination, America called down the stairs, requesting Russia's presence in his office. They fell into their position quickly, as if the act was normal to them by now. As before, America booted up the computer. He browsed through the most recently downloaded files and glared, exerting excessive pressure on the Russian's hand.

"No wonder I was so mad, I remembered all the press conferences and addresses others had given where they criticized me, as well as the times my allies thought it best to stab me in the back. Plus this huge file dealing with our own relations only added fuel to the fire."

"You remember the Cold War, then?"

"Apparently."

"You seem pretty calm about it; that was a pretty dramatic few decades for both of us. Can you forgive so easily?"

He laughed, "Forgive? You make it sound like you did something wrong, which I know you don't believe. No, I guess I'm just accepting of what happened. And I'm not threatened by it at all. The USSR has dissolved, and Russia, no, Ivan, remains. It's time for us to learn from this and move on. I think the world has suffered enough from our stubbornness, don't you? It's far behind us now, and we've got bigger things to deal with. Sure, some of them stem from what we created so we can't just disregard it, but we shouldn't let it affect our current relationship."

He was struck by the wisdom in America's words. Even more alarming was that during his rampage, he hadn't directly threatened Russia for what he'd done—he'd only mentioned killing his close friends. Perhaps it was because he didn't feel as betrayed by the Russian's more expected actions. Does that mean that he didn't value their friendship beforehand? He decided to ask. "Alfred, have you acquired any pre-Cold War memories of you and I?"

"Hmm," he browsed the files. "Doesn't look like it. Ah, here's one with your name on it. Well, here goes nothing." He jabbed the instrument into his head, hitting download. Ivan knew that this wouldn't end well. America would be hurt and confused when he saw that their war followed a period of relative closeness. Thankfully, the damning file containing his confession and desire for forgetfulness weren't contained in the selection. He wondered if Tony would ever allow America to access it, and how things would change between them if he did.

America released Russia's hand, shoving himself away from the computer. "Alfred—" Russia began.

"Don't you fucking call me that, Russia," he spat. "You know what, forget what I just said. You're no better than everyone else. You all took advantage of me when I was young, promising your aid along with your friendship. But it was all a big lie just to get me to trust you. Then you… God you killed so many! For what reason? Why did you go so far to spite me?" He wiped away tears, angry and ashamed that he was growing sadder rather than angrier. "God, just get out, please. You can come to the meeting later, but I don't wanna see you for a bit. Just let me deal with this on my own."

"I can't. I'm sorry, but Tony asked me to help you cope. Even if I am the source of your anger this time around, I won't leave you alone."

America rushed toward him, and Russia braced himself for a blow so was surprised when America wrapped his arms around him instead. He shuddered as he continued crying, muffling his wails in Russia's chest.

Russia knew how to deal with an angry America, that was easy. A sad America, that wasn't something he'd seen in many years. The last time he'd seen him so stricken with grief was in the aftermath of 9/11. He hated seeing those eyes fade with sadness, so he gifted the nation with a memorial, anything he needed really, just to see him smile. The last time they talked before the Cold War, he vaguely remembered America crying, a desolate sight that would've moved him had his heart been with him.

"I'd give it all to go back to before then. Things were so much better. I'd never kill again if I could just wake up and this would all just be a dream. We could go back, not just to the 40s. How about the roaring 20s? You came over a few times, I got you to wear that striking suit and we hit the town. I felt so alive back then, and you smiled so much."

Russia blushed at the memory. It was so long ago, but he vividly remembered his last night out with the American, after dancing for hours at a splendorous house party. They found themselves on the beach, out so late that they were able to watch the sun rise.

 _Waves drifted lazily over the sand. It was too early for anyone to be up, including the ocean it seemed. However, the hour didn't bother the two young men who sat side by side, one digging his toes into the cool sand while the other observed him. As the sun peeked over the horizon, the blond laughed at the cheesiness of the scene._

 _"This is nice, being here." He bit his lip. "…with you," he added nervously._

 _"Da, it has been a great trip for me as well. I was surprised by your invitation. It has been eye-opening to see this splendor while my people suffer so much," he hadn't meant his comment to be as bitter as it sounded, so he was surprised by the American reaching out to take his hand._

 _"I'm sorry, I didn't mean for this to be offensive or anything. I just wanted it to be a show of good will. Perhaps it was a stupid idea. I wanted you to see this peak because I can feel something bad coming. Deep in my bones, I know this can't last here. In a few years, I'll be struggling with a cold myself. This may be a goodbye, as I doubt I'll be able to visit others when I'm so burdened with sickness," he confessed._

 _"It won't be goodbye. If what you say is true, I will help you as you've helped me. And if you ever wish to get away from it all, you're always welcome in my home," he gave the other nation a squeeze, smiling when America turned and met his eyes. Blue and purple crashed together, and soon after soft pink lips rose up to meet Russia's chilled ones. The action was tender but cut short when a flushed America pulled back and stuttered an apology. It had been a long time since Russia had felt someone so warm, so he quickly pulled the other nation close to him for another deeper kiss. America gasped at the sudden move, but found himself sinking as Russia pressed against him while wrapping his arm around the smaller nation. He craved America in that moment, if only for his exuberant warmth that shot through his clothes with the close contact and managed to awaken his heart. His tongue slid in while his hand lightly tugged at America's hair. The American whined at the slight pain but found himself enjoying the harsh caresses._

 _Russia pushed the other onto his back, parting their mouths to move his lips to the others neck. He struck gold when a bite earned him a deep moan from the other. He wanted nothing more than to take the vibrant nation right there—his recent famine had left him starving, in several senses of the word. It had left him extremely horny, for lack of a better description. His body was empty and needed sustenance, be it in the form of food or flesh. He continued to hungrily attack the others skin, running his hands down America's side._

 _"Ah, Ivan, we should stop," he panted, sounding like he very much did not want to stop._

 _"Why's that, Alfred?" he asked between bites._

 _"Because, hnnghhh. Stop, we're on a beach, I'm still a little drunk, you have a flight to catch in a few hours, and it's… oh god…" he moaned._

 _"You are not convincing me that you want to stop," he ground his hips against the nation below him, finding the other just as excited as he was._

 _"It's not that I don't_ want _to per se. It's just, this isn't right. We're just friends, and even if… well, for me this has to mean something."_

 _"It means pleasure, obviously," Russia replied curtly. America pushed against his chest, easily removing the much lighter nation from on top of him._

 _"I meant something more than that. Look, this isn't gonna happen with us. Not the way things are right now."_

 _Russia pouted, but knew it would be foolish to press for more when he wasn't welcome. He sighed, instantly turned off by the American's lack of passion. Why even kiss him then if he didn't want what would follow? Perhaps he was still too young, too innocent. He stopped. "Could it be that you're embarrassed because you're unplucked?"_

 _He blushed, "Fuck off, I'm not a virgin. I'm a young and powerful nation, how could that be the case?"_

 _"Sex with humans to relieve oneself does not count. Have you ever united with another nation? An ally or even an enemy in a display of dominance?"_

 _"That's none of your business. Now come on, we have to get you home since you decided to save your packing for the morning like an idiot."_

 _Satisfied with his prying, Russia followed his host. He set aside his pent up frustration for the time being, but knew that he'd have to deal with it sooner or later. It didn't even matter to him who it was: he had plenty of charges back home who were used to the treatment, of course. And they wouldn't mind it if he wasn't imagining them beneath him or care whose name he called out in the end._

The memory played like a video clip, and at the end Russia felt sad. Knowing now what America thought about sex, he wished that he hadn't pressured him back then, that he'd taken the time to cater to the other's feelings rather than being solely focused on his own. He knew that he was a rather selfish nation, both then and now. But at the moment, he was concerned for the crying nation clutching at his scarf. He wondered if America remembered that moment on the beach, or if that particular memory was in Tony's possession.

"This sucks so much, it's not fair! Don't you even care about how fucked up things got between us?"

"It is a more usual occurrence for me. I've become hardened to my friends becoming enemies."

He sniffed. "I don't wanna be hard and cold like that. I want to let people in, no matter how stupid it is. I feel like my thoughts keep getting pulled in different directions with each memory," he inhaled deeply, letting his breath out with a long shudder. He pulled back, lifting his face toward Russia's, his expression so vulnerable. If his comment earlier hadn't already brought that memory of the beach back, surely his expression, identical to his doe-eyed look back then, would've. Russia froze, trapped in his gaze. A part of him wanted to run, while the rest of him wished for America to lean forward and plant another kiss on his lips. This time around, he'd show America that there was something special between them. His heart rattled in his ribcage. Since they were so close, America felt the vibration and eyed him oddly.

"You okay, big guy?" His expression softened, and somehow he managed to look every bit the hero he wanted to be despite his puffy eyes and red, runny nose.

"Da, just the heart acting up. It is not a big deal."

America nodded. "Hey, do you have mine? Or did Tony take it with him?"

"I have it. It's at my home. Do you want to try and put it back in?"

"Sure, I think I might be ready. At least I hope so. Maybe I should cool off for a bit. Wanna watch some Netflix?"

"Of course," Russia followed after the blond nation, who was quick to remove himself from the embrace. He trudged back to the living room, sitting on the couch while America started up his TV and game station. He hopped onto the sofa, rather close to the other nation while he logged into his Netflix.

"Alright, scoot over, we're cuddling whether you like it or not. Hmmm I hope they didn't get rid of it!" he snuggled against Russia's chest, forcing him to place his arm around him once more. "Damn, they don't have it! Why did I think they did?"

"Is that the new season of _Prison Break_?"

America grinned, "And here we have yet another nation seduced by my superior television programs. I'm caught up, but I don't mind watching it. The state where the money's hidden, Utah, he's a cute little kid. Super conservative at times, but he does have a liberal streak, and I've seen him eyeing his brother Wyoming with less than innocent eyes." He chuckled. "Your boss would probably get along with his unofficial leadership. He met some of your people a while back, actually. Immigrants built a sizable community. But, it wasn't in the fertile part of the valley that Brigham Young declared to be the place and they were forced to move to greener pastures."

"My people have often found a warm welcome in your home."

"You could always visit too, you know. You'd get an equally warm welcome. You haven't seen Alaska in a bit, and you haven't even met Hawaii or my other new territories."

"I understand what you meant that your thoughts were in all different directions. You go from asking me to leave to asking me to join you in your home in the span of a few minutes."

"Hey, I'm emotionally compromised right now. Just accept the invitation you big lug."

"You are the host for next year's summit, nyet? Maybe I'll extend my visit a week before it."

"That'd be great! But, if you ever want to come over even before then, just let me know. I'll primarily be at home for the next few years if I want to get any of my stuff done." He finally started up the show, skipping straight to the most recently added season. "I know you speak English well enough, but just let me know if you get confused with anything." Russia nodded, and they kept quiet to watch several episodes, losing track of time.

* * *

 **a/n: have you ever read so much fanfiction and seen so much fanart that you can't remember what's actually cannon and what's just very popular headcanon? ya, me too! but i'm a big fan of the whole Alfred having 50 kids + territories. While i have also seen representations of "Native America", i thought to expand on it and make the nations there own personifications, as there is great diversity between the tribes!**

 **did you know that Prison Break is pretty popular in Russia? i've never watched it myself, but i had a roommate who loved it. i just so happen to be from utah and she was so excited when she found that out! Tooele is a rather bleak place, i could never imagine living there!**

 **again, i tried to keep reform ideas rather vague as i want this story to be relevant in more than just the current political context. however, i did get a bit specific when talking about a borderless relationship b/t Canada and the US. how sick would that be? this was inspired by my lovely fall break trip to Montreal. Ooh if such a thing happened, maybe they'd finally lower the drinking age here, haha!**


	7. Chapter 7

During the ending credits, America shifted to face Russia. Due to their close proximity, this left only a few inches between their faces. America seemed unabashed, however. "You know, I don't think I ever thanked you for that memorial you sent me. I know your boss said it was his idea, but now that I remember more about you, the gesture is much more your style. So thanks. It really is a beautiful piece."

"I'm glad you think so."

"And I'm sorry it took me so long to acknowledge it. Can you forgive me?"

"I was never upset. I understood it wasn't in your boss's interest to paint me in a positive light."

"I know, but it's not as if I couldn't have reached out myself. I'll be honest, since I didn't remember our past at the time, I thought it was just really random. I figured you were doing it to get something from me and not as a show of support. Ivan, I…" He inched ever closer, letting his eyelids droop over his brilliant blue eyes. Russia didn't meet him halfway, choosing instead to bask in the sight before him. Finally, he too shut his eyes, relishing the taste as America made contact.

This kiss was different from their last—he was amazed that he could distinguish them in such detail with almost a century in between them. To America, this kiss was his first with Russia, and it was equal parts terrifying and electric. He didn't expect the older nation to be so warm against his slightly chilled body, or so gentle to the touch. This time around, America was the first to deepen the kiss, eliciting a low moan from the Russian, who leaned back onto the couch, pulling America on top of him. America lathered his face with feathery kisses, wishing to cover every inch of his skin with his lips. The light touches sent shivers down Russia's spine and he wished for America to be a bit harsher; this softness was foreign to him. But, he didn't want to startle the other, so he let him be in control. His self-control was tested when America nuzzled his neck, pulling his scarf aside just enough to allow him passage to Russia's weak spot.

"Ah, Alfred…" he whined as America licked over his scars. On finding an unmarred patch of skin he sucked slowly, leaving his own mark on Russia.

"Yes, Ivan?" he purred, bringing his face over Russia's. His eyes were dark, and something about him seemed off.

Cold. Russia was familiar enough with the sensation. In the moment, he failed to realize just how much chillier America's lips were compared to the last time. But once parted from the appendage and spared his skillful ministrations, for once he felt the odd sensation of another sapping the heat from his body. Usually it was the other way around. He detested the cold, hence his natural draw to warmer countries. While he was very much attracted to Alfred, in this moment he could tell that he wasn't dealing with a whole nation.

"I think we should stop," he stated, well aware of the role-reversal occurring.

"Why's that, solnyshko? Razve ty ne khochesh' nemnogo poveselit'sya?" ( _…little sun? Don't you have to have some fun?)_ The language had a powerful effect on its founding nation, but he managed to ignore the flow of blood to his vital regions.

"Because, like you said, you're emotionally compromised. We shouldn't do anything till you're healed."

America stuck out his lower lip, giving a small, childish glare. "You've already said that sex doesn't mean anything to you. And if I don't love the other person, it doesn't mean much to me either."

"I thought you didn't like the purely physical part." Russia hid the pain he felt at the quip with his own inquiry.

"You don't have to like something to do it if it's for the other person."

"For me? I think you're confused. This isn't the proper way to thank a… a friend. This isn't necessary." America froze when he caught the look in Russia's eyes, a look of pleading. He pushed backwards, distancing himself from Russia by scooting the other end of the couch. He brought his knees to his chest, cradling his head on his folded arms.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to push you. I—" his voice was caught in his throat. "I thought that you wanted this. That it would make you like me more. I just… I'm so sorry, I'm really confused."

"Alfred, it's okay. I think you're not acting like yourself. You shouldn't force yourself into this kind of relationship unless you want it. You want an emotional connection, da? Just because sex without love doesn't mean anything to you, it doesn't mean that sex is meaningless. It would further complicate things, I think. You deserve to take things slow, and anyone who thinks you're not worth being patient for is an idiot." He comforted the young nation, sitting next to him and pulling him close. He was crying again, his confident gaze from earlier contorted into a pained expression.

"I don't get it. I get close to people and they leave 'cause I won't have sex with them. So then I think that I should just have sex with people to keep them close, but when I do they don't want to get closer to me. Everyone I love leaves me. First England, Greece, the others… Am I just unlovable? Too dirty for people to look at anymore? Just someone to be used for quick pleasure? How can I value myself when others see me as nothing more than an easy whore? They don't understand me at all, how could they? No one cares about Alfred, only about America. They don't realize just how fucked up my head is. I'm the cause of my people's despair, I know it. It's not a coincidence that I have the highest rates of depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder… I can't deal with this. Why did I think remembering was a good idea?" He groaned, clutching at his head. Russia was afraid he'd fall back into hurting himself again, so refused to allow him any wiggle room.

"Alfred, I'm sorry you feel this way. If you want, we can cancel the committee meeting while you gather yourself."

"No, it's okay. I'll be fine. I'm sorry again for earlier. It was presumptuous of me."

"It is fine," Russia blushed, mulling over his next words. "I hope you don't let this dull your confidence further. It took a great deal of strength to turn you down."

America smiled softly, ignoring a small flutter in his empty chest. "Thanks, that means a lot. But I wonder, if it had happened… would you leave me too afterwards?"

Russia remained silent for a few moments, not sure the best way to answer. "I don't know if—"

There was a loud knock at the door, followed by a grumpy Englishman bursting into the room.

"Oi, America, you left your door unlocked!" He called out. Turning toward the embracing couple, his face turned red. "Oh, I'm sorry, I'll be going."

America squirmed out of Russia's grasp. "It's fine, we were just talking." He stood up, stretching while checking his phone. He pouted. "Dude, you're early as fuck! The meeting doesn't even start for an hour."

"Ah, well, I wanted to chat with you for a bit actually. Since we haven't had a chance to catch up since the summit started."

"Oh, gotcha. I'm free to chat now."

"Well, I meant to talk to you alone," he shot a glare toward Russia.

"Don't be like that. We're all going to be working together for the next week, so you'd better get used to him.

"I'm fine with working with him, but I wanted to speak about something more personal." He eyes finally noticed the disheveled appearance of both nations' clothes—was that a hickey on Russia's partially exposed neck? "You know what? It's not important." He surveyed the rest of the room. "Why did you volunteer to host if you didn't even clean this place up a bit? And I don't smell any dinner cooking. Are you even prepared?"

"Ew, first of all this isn't even dirty, it's lived in. Second of all... bitch! It's a bit unjust to call me unprepared for a meeting that's supposed to happen in an hour. Maybe I was just about to tidy up, and I'm ordering the best pizza in town for dinner, I'll have you know."

"Germany won't be able to work in this place, plus it smells like a teenage boy in here," his nostrils flared indignantly.

"No shit, Sherlock, I am a teenage boy!"

"You don't even know Sherlock beyond the BBC! Don't use his name in vain!"

"Excuse you, I read all of Sir Arthur's works years before the series! I shipped Johnlock before Tumblr was even invented!"

England was red, "How dare you! Everyone knows it's a platonic relationship!"

"What alternate universe have you been smoking in? You know what, talk to me later. I'll take you through every one of his published works and show you every instance of homoerotic rhetoric."

"Augh, why is your culture so consumed with finding yaoi where it doesn't exist?"

"Embrace it, England. What could be more beautiful than a connection made between equals? An innocent curiosity stemming into a full blown affair? Two strong male bodies pressed against each other, neither dominating but both supporting the other in the moment of climax? Ultimate ecstasy made possible only by a sharing of weaknesses, everything laid bare as one lays the other on his back, gently preparing him before giving in to his carnal nature and ravishing the other from within, with equal consideration for the other's attainment of pleasure?" England's face was like a tomato, and even Russia flushed at America's vivid descriptions—for one with such a conservative and conflicting view of sex, he sure was well-versed in its theoretical practice.

"By the grace of the Queen! How I ended up raising such a vulgar colony is beyond me. Whatever. Russia, would you mind hosting the meeting? This place is now too tainted with colorful language the likes of which I've never heard before."

"Da, my house is much cleaner as I've spent little time in it. I've spent most of my time here, now that I think about it." The comment earned him a look of horror from the Englishman, which brought a smile to his face. After he left, America laughed.

"Hoo boy, I love getting under his skin. He acts so prudish, but things he said to me back in the day… well, if his boss heard it she'd have a heart attack. Guarantee you that he's going to France right now, horny as hell. Okay, shall we head to your place then? There's enough time for us to try and get my heart back in. I'll text the other nations about the change in address."

Russia smiled, glad that he managed to get out of answering America's last question. If England hadn't showed up, he'd be closer to unlocking Russia's heart. The unspoken words hung thick in the air, and he chose to ignore them.

 _"I don't know if I'd ever be able to leave you again."_

* * *

There was a loud groan, "Christ, Ivan, _harder_! I'm not made of paper."

"It's not going in, Alfred, I don't know what you want from me!" A frustrated grunt here, a gasp there, the sound of furniture creaking.

"Just hurry up and put it in! I'm going crazy, and you're crushing me!"

"I thought you weren't made of paper? Hold still so I can get the right angle!"

"Well Mr. Paperweight, in case you forgot you're the largest nation around! Jesus, just let me do it, you tupitsa. ( _dumbass)_ "

"You don't have any experience shoving it in like I do. Ow! You're doing it all wrong. Do you even know anything about anatomy?"

"I'll have you know I'm quite well-versed in the study!"

"Then why the hell do you have it backwards?"

"Idiot, I'm trying to get it in from the back. Here, I'll turn around. Just shove it in there."

Just outside Russia's front door, several countries froze at the sounds. It was undeniable that the voices inside were none other than Russia and America. And while they wanted to deny what was happening in there, it was rather hard to given the immediate evidence.

"Hon hon hon, so my theories earlier weren't so misguided. Our little Amerique grew up to be quite the screamer," France smirked while wrapping his arm around his lover's shoulder; he was being a bit too cuddly for the Englishman's liking, although given the couple's previous hour spent in a heated passion after he returned home flustered, pulling France away from Prussia and Spain to take care of his problem in the bedroom, he couldn't be too angry with him.

"I wonder if I can get a better angle from a different window…" Greece mused as he lamented the poor picture he had taken through the front window. He was hoping to send it to Japan, he knew he'd like the image and had been looking for a proper gift to use as an apology for his recent transgressions against the other.

"How inconsiderate, first they have us come all the way over to Russia's instead of America's—America's house is like right next to mine, and Russia's all the way across the street! And then they delay our entry because they're fooling around? Don't they realize it's, like, raining?"

"Maybe we should knock?" Canada suggested.

"Did someone say something?"

"Maybe we should knock," Sweden added confidently. He raised the gilded knocker up, bringing it down three times with a loud clang. At the sound, the house went silent. There was one last grunt before someone strode toward the door. America answered, his shirt slightly askew and—was that blood on his chest? "Hey dudes! Thanks for coming to the new place on such short notice. I received complaints from a picky Brit that my place wouldn't do. Come on in!" He opened the door wide, stepping aside to let everyone enter. They each turned to Russia, none failing to notice the red on his ungloved hand. His other hand was kept behind his back as he smiled.

"Please come in, make yourselves at home. The food will be here shortly," Russia greeted, slowly shuffling to the stairs. While America took everyone's coats, he darted upstairs, returning soon after and wiping both hands on his dark pants.

The countries sat around the large dinner table, all of them very comfortable with the identical setting that was present in their homes.

"At the recommendation of Romano, tonight we'll have pizza! They were pretty hesitant about delivering in this weather, but I placed such a large order that they couldn't refuse!" America said cheerfully.

"Oh, you went with Marco's?" Romano asked, his usually negative mood always brightening when his favorite foods were mentioned.

"Yessir! Before any of you go criticizing the choice, just know that this pizza is a far cry from Domino's—which I find astounding because Domino's is just fantastic—it's artisan type shit, only the good stuff for you guys!" America seemed in much more usual spirits with his casual language, so the countries also found themselves lightening up. Some of them had feared that America would be just as serious as he'd been earlier.

Of course, he wasn't completely in a joking mood either. As soon as the food arrived and everyone was settled with a few slices on their plates, he commenced the meeting with a few suggestions. He presented the community living plans that his people had researched.

"Now, while this community planning is pretty sound and efficient, if I do say so myself, it's not just for refugees. We all know it would be a bad idea to create such isolated clumps of immigrants. Instead we need to integrate them into our societies, make them feel safe and loyal to their new home. Thus these plans would be open to current citizens too. Of course, there comes the problem of creating communities that are strictly low-income housing, an environment which has proven time and time again to be adverse to healthy psychological development in children." He continued his speech with a slice of meat lover's pizza in hand, leaving an open question for the others to answer. Poland and Sweden had some good ideas, but it was Canada whose suggestion struck a chord with America. He and his brother rambled on for a few minutes, excitedly constructing elaborate plans. They fell into speaking English, completely tuning out the others. Finally, Canada nodded and smiled, fading back into obscurity now that his momentary animated streak was complete.

"Alright, sorry for the language friends, but we were talking so fast it just kind of slipped into it. Anyway, a quick summary of what my awesome bro and I concluded…"

The meeting only lasted two hours, as committee meetings weren't allowed to meet for longer than that. They had made surprisingly good progress; Germany seemed near to tears upon realizing that he had attended a nation meeting without it devolving into some fight or a stand-up routine. As they dissolved the meeting, most nations headed home, though Greece and America took to chatting over some cheese pizza. Russia coughed uncomfortably, slightly alarmed at how close the two were sitting.

"I believe that was a great success. Greece, America, I apologize, but I must be getting to bed soon."

"No worries, dude, we'll get out of your hair. I'm probably gonna take all the leftovers, unless you want any?" Russia shook his head. "Sweet! Nothing beats cold pizza for breakfast." He gathered up the lone pieces into two boxes. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Goodbye, Russia," Greece nodded to the other nation, his voice slow and monotone as usual. The two left together, and immediately Russia felt lonely. He had expected America and him to spend some more time together. And he couldn't help but notice America's hand fall around the famously promiscuous nation's small shoulders as he closed the door behind them.

* * *

 **a/n: gasp! le drame!**

 **also thanks so much for the faves and reviews! y'all are too kind! especially you BCfireshadow! Your words were just what i needed today! I'm glad you're enjoying it. :D**


	8. Chapter 8

America had entered into a sort of friends with benefits relationship with Greece decades ago. It was purely a physical thing, and America was unable to form any kind of emotional attachment to the man, despite their many nights spent discussing history and philosophy together. He wasn't hurt by the Greek's lack of affection either. What hurt him was how easily Greece was able to fall for Japan on a deeper level, and how quickly he left America's side in favor of another. He couldn't blame Greece, though. Surely to him America was just a toy, a fling before he found something better and more suited to his tastes.

Of course, America and Japan had been engaged in an innocent type of courtship themselves before. While they never had sex as neither was very open to it, they had fooled around in other ways. However, they parted amiably after a few years because they knew that they were better as friends, and not as lovers. Knowing the sexual preferences of both members of their relationship was disconcerting, however, as he realized that for each of them, he had fulfilled their desires in the exact fashion the other would surely do. It made him question what part of him then wasn't good enough for either one. Did they talk about him together? Laugh at the things he'd confided in them or the things he'd done?

There was a shifting beside him in his bed. Greece, still slow even in sleep, turned and snuggled into America's bare chest, mumbling as he began to wake up.

"Kaliméra, Heracles, ( _Good morning)_ " America nuzzled the top of the other's head.

"Eínai polý norís gia na eínai kaló, _(it's too early for anything to be 'good')_ " he blinked as he realized something. "Also, since when do you speak Greek?"

"I picked up on it lately," America smiled. "Want me to make you breakfast? Ah, I just remembered, we only have pasta. Oh wait! Plus leftover pizza!"

"I could go for some cold pizza," he yawned.

"Awesome, I'll be right back!" Heracles was astounded with the young nation's energy so early in the morning. He rolled over to the edge of the bed, hoping to find his jacket containing his phone. Alas, said article of clothing had been discarded somewhere between the front door and the bedroom. A wall clock revealed the time to be seven o'clock, far too early for anyone to be awoken after a night such as he'd spent. He'd have to remind Alfred to work on his bedside manner in the future.

Future? He shook his head. That wasn't an option with America. Besides, he was with Japan. While they were going through a rough break at the moment, he still loved him. He hadn't so much loved the way Japan seemed to always be moping about lately, however, and he had a feeling that it had something to do with the same man whose bed he'd just shared.

It was understandable then that Japan's inability to properly move on from his first love made Greece jealous enough to ask for some time apart. And what he did with his body during said break was no concern of Japan's, not until he sorted out his own problems. Especially not after he'd found out that days after their break up, his ex had slept with Turkey, of all people.

Besides, he knew that with Alfred, things were simple. There was never any risk of them breaking each other's hearts since they didn't want anything too serious. Although, Greece had to admit, this new side of Alfred that everyone was seeing for the first time was a bit more attractive to him. So much so that he'd finally given in and gone all the way him. Before, they only practiced sex as performed by the ancient Greeks, and they both liked leaving it at that. Alfred was more than willing to do just that last night, but on Heracles's insistance (he'd be loath to admit that it could've been called begging), Alfred united the two nations.

When they had first entered into their previous arrangement, a younger and sexually confused America had come to him, asking all kinds of questions having to deal with homosexuality. Things progressed naturally, with the more experienced nation more than happy to have a young mind and body before him, his own eromenos. They had great debates in addition, and it was a fulfilling commitment-free affair. He hadn't planned on last night at all, but seeing America so confident and powerful awoke something inside Greece. He went from erastes to eromenos in the blink of an eye, and didn't have any wish to stop anytime soon. He slipped out of the bed, his memories of the previous night making him impatient for Alfred's return. Sliding his boxers on and walking through the pain in his ass, he tiptoed downstairs, hoping to find an unsuspecting lover in the kitchen ready for another round.

He found just that and draped his arms over Alfred's shoulders. "What's taking so long, Al? Come back to bed. You can leave the pizza, I'm suddenly hungry for something else, gliko mou, ( _sweetie)_ " he nipped at the other's ear playfully.

"Ah, hello Greece. It is pleasant to see you here as well," a cold voice sounded from the dining room. Greece was unbothered by the appearance of Russia and continued to cling to America.

"Hello, Russia. What brings you here so early in the morning?"

"I was just checking up on America. He was sick just a few days ago, you know. Now I get why we was so eager to get me out of the house; here I thought he was upset with me for something!" Russia smiled, a chilling sight. But Greece wasn't scared—of course, it helped that America was standing between two. He could read the situation instantly, the thinly veiled jealous look in Russia's eyes and the indifferent yet confused look in America's.

"Heracles, I'll be up in a minute. Do you mind?"

"Not at all," he purred, planting a small kiss on the other's cheek while maintaining eye contact with Russia. He retreated upstairs, stopping only to pick up his phone from his coat so he could be slightly productive while he lounged.

Back in the kitchen, America was stuffing his face with some pizza. "Sorry about that, he's cute, but a bit clingy in the mornings. I had almost forgotten that. Anyway, thanks for delivering this copy. And are you sure you're okay to present today? I know it's been a while since you've done it."

"I am just fine to do so. I am very surprised by you, Alfred. Just yesterday you lamented your mistakes of the past, and wished that you could get others to respect you. I highly doubt falling back into bed with one of those mistakes, letting him call you by your name… that's not the way to get what you want."

America laughed, misinterpreting the message. "Don't worry about me, Ivan, he's harmless. And this is just a private thing anyway, it won't affect the world stage. Just like before, he'll go running back to Japan's arms. But this time, it'll be on my terms."

Russia didn't like the cold look in his gaze, nor the meaning in his words; it wasn't like America to view relationships so frivolously. Even though it killed him to say it, he managed to get it out. "Don't be so negative. You should let yourself be happy if you can."

America smiled, "Thanks, maybe you're right. Well, if that's all you had to say, I'm going to see to my kotyonok ( _kitten_ in Russian). I'll see you at the meeting." He grabbed another slice of pizza before making his way back upstairs, leaving Russia to show himself out. Russia's blood boiled, hearing his own language being used by America to endear another. Despite his kind words of advice early, he hoped that this fling would be just that. The way Greece met his gaze, challenging him of all people, made him think that maybe America was wrong about the other's feelings. Surely he could wait for things to die out, or maybe he could interfere more directly. He left and headed directly for Japan's house, knowing that the nation would be awake at this hour.

Meanwhile, America jumped on top of Greece, ignoring his cries of protest. "Here you go, sleepyhead, brought you some pizza." He kissed Greece on the nose while simultaneously steering the pizza toward his mouth.

He swatted the offensive food away. "I thought I told you to leave it," reaching up, he pulled Alfred closer by his hair. A simple swipe of his curl made him growl as he pressed Greece further into the bed. Greece was suddenly wide awake and seemed more animated than ever, calling out in his native tongue as America took care of every part of his body.

This time around was much quicker than the sensually slow session of the night before, but they didn't mind. They helped each other wash in the shower, then left for Greece's house so he could change his outfit. While America was in another formal military uniform, he stuck with his usual casual look. The pair made a quick stop at Starbucks before arriving at the meeting. They were just in time, and two countries eyed them coldly. It was easy enough for Greece to ignore Russia's glare, but he found himself wishing to hide from the reproachful gaze of Japan. He lowered his face into his scarf, a necessary accessory to help him hide the hickeys. He finished his latte, but even the caffeine wasn't enough to keep him away from his usual morning nap.

The first part of the meeting was for the nations who, due to the weather, weren't able to present the day before. This included Japan, who made an impressive speech about the importance of trust and friendship. Seeing as Greece was asleep, the message was meant for Alfred's ears.

"It is important that we remember past alliances when acting with other nations."

 _"How could you do that to me, we're friends!"_

"Even if things between other countries are strained, you shouldn't see the momentary weakness of one as an invitation for you to enter into an alliance."

 _"Just because we're on a break doesn't give you the right to him!"_

"Further, engaging in such a relationship wherein you sabotage an established alliance should be akin to a declaration of war, and relations with the aggressor should be severed immediately."

 _"If you don't back off, consider our friendship over."_

The other nations nodded politely, not sure what this had to do with the PowerPoint behind him titled "Illegal Whaling Enterprises in the Pacific". America raised his hand.

"Hai, America?"

"What if one country in the alliance wronged the other? What if the other willfully sought aid from another country in their time of need? Would offering the desired aid really be considered so detestable?"

 _"What if your actions drove your boyfriend away and he chose me instead?"_

"The nation in question should be cognizant enough to recognize his own lechery. Furthermore, he should allow the two allied nations to work things out rather than barging in when it's none of his business."

"Ah, but what if the nation and one of the allies had been allied themselves in the past, and the third person's, who had also been allied with the first nation, own insecurities in dealing with the consequences of impartially severing his first alliance are what made the second nation so quick to leave their alliance in favor of the safe, stronger alliance with the first nation?" Most of the other nations were quite confused by this complicated rhetorical situation.

"How about all three of them just enter into an alliance, ve~?" an oblivious Italy suggested. "Since all of them were at some point happy with each other, maybe they can work better together."

Japan was bright red, "That's not how this alliance works! It's a one-on-one thing!"

"Eh, what's this? Japan's angry how great!" Turkey exclaimed, snapping a photo with his phone. "I agree, there is strength in numbers, and nations who've worked together well in the past can usually overcome present disagreements and reform an alliance. It's much easier to fulfill each other's wishes when working in tandem! I highly recommend Italy's suggestion for the three-way alliance!"

While this wasn't working as Russia had planned, he couldn't help but be amused by how flustered Japan was growing.

"You know, you've forgotten an important part," America scolded. "When making an alliance, strength matters. Assuming that the imposing nation here is the strongest, perhaps the world power, say, then the second nation has no power to claim the third. If it's in the third's best interest to leave a weak nation in favor of another, who could say that they're wrong? If it's a matter of survival, such a thing is only natural."

"Eh, this is getting a bit too confusing for the awesome me's liking."

"I'm just saying, if you can't give him what he wants, then I'm more than capable to make up for what you lacked. And there's nothing anyone here, especially not you, can do to stop me from doing whatever the fuck I want." America slammed his fist down on the table, leaving an impressive crack. Greece shot awake at the sound, immediately sensing the tension in the room. He looked first to America, then to Japan, who looked utterly defeated. America continued, "But hey, maybe you're right. Perhaps it's not worth it for the strong nation to split up two pathetically weak nations who've found each other. But maybe those nations should stop running off behind each other's backs. Maybe if one of them moved on from his old alliance—the dissolving of which was his idea by the way—and hadn't during the break also formed a new alliance with his partner's bitter rival, then the other wouldn't be so struck with grief, because of course he still loves the other and his cheating broke his heart, that he had to seek comfort from an ex-ally!" The words fell from his mouth, heated and fast.

Turkey laughed, "Ah, I get what's happening now! I think you should follow his advice, Ki-kun. Greece is a big boy, he can forgive you easily enough. You just have to forgive him. Try to understand why he wanted a break initially. Perhaps deal with those residual alliances you still hold."

Japan frowned, meeting Greece's sad stare. "I'll consider forgiving him. But it'll take me a while to forgive my friend for what he did," he glared at America, who shrugged. Japan left the room, and Greece was quick to follow after him. Germany coughed, "Well, an enlightening report by Japan. Perhaps now will be a good time to take a break. I can get the caterers to come up in just a few minutes."

Most of the nations were still confused, but decided that it wasn't important enough to discuss, instead complaining about their respective bosses or their workload. America sat with a scowl on his face, refusing to chat with anyone. Canada was the only one who dared approach him, offering some sustenance as a sign of peace. America begrudgingly snatched up the pastry, biting into it. It was hard to take his angered look seriously with powdered sugar on his cheek.

The boys chatted quietly in English for a bit. America was doing most of the talking while Canada just kept nodding along. He occasionally would ask a question, but otherwise remained quiet. When it seemed that America was done explaining himself, Canada took him by the hand and brought him to his feet. They exited the room together, and Russia moved to follow them.

He was stopped by a firm hand on his arm. Turning, he found China staring up at him.

"I have a proposal for you, aru," he said, tugging him toward another door. They settled into a rather small storage closet, and Russia was forced to bend over China. "So, I'm sure you've noticed America's strange behavior. I've also heard that you two had spent the first two days of the summit together, up until Greece snuck into the picture. I'm sure you've also been able to notice that he's rather unstable right now. One day he's his usual self, the next day he's sick, then he's super serious, and now he's homicidal, throwing tantrums with one of his oldest friends."

"I have noticed, thanks for pointing out the obvious."

"I think he's been compromised somehow. Maybe it's something back home, an imbalance of some sort, but I think he's close to cracking. Should that occur, then the spot for world superpower will open up. We both know that we ourselves are not at full strength to compete with him unless whatever's happening severely cripples him. However, if we work together we'll have a better chance. I have contacts that will also allow us more insight into what's causing these changes. Perhaps we can help them along. None of the other nations will want to deal with someone so temperamental, and his power will dwindle. With depleted strength, no one will want to stick with him on his suicidal journey, and that's when we strike. Sure, some of his old friends will fight back, but they'll see that we're doing everyone a favor by getting rid of him. He's always been a bit of a time bomb, and I think his clock is running out. So what do you say?"

"You know how I feel about such vague proposals. Give me a proper report with enough evidence that he is truly weakening enough for others to leave him, and maybe I'll listen next time," he replied coldly, opening the door and heading back toward his chair. Just as he'd gotten Greece out of the way, now China was threatening his and America's combined happiness. It wasn't something he would take sitting down, he thought, sitting down.

* * *

 **a/n: ah i'm not a fan of the way i portrayed china. in the future i hope to be better able to convey his plans as mandatory orders from his boss. I took a class this semester, hist of chinese religions, and i learned so much about how a lot of chinese culture is so misunderstood from a western contextual framework. so i apologize for that. but i do believe his boss would jump on a chance at dealing america a blow when he's weak!**

 **anyway, oh me oh my! alfred's quite a dick, ain't he? i had quite an interesting research session writing this, learning all about pederasty and intercrural sex. Did you know that back then anal sex was considered demeaning to the receiving partner in ancient greek pederastic relationships? i sure didn't! so, if you didn't get it, that's what i was implying had happened back in the day between Greece and America. Greece, as the older man, was the erastes while America, just past puberty was his eromenos. Then things changed when he grew up. Intercrural sex is also practiced between breeders in Japan and is called sumata! i'm not suggesting that that's exclusively what japan and greece do with each other, just that that's how greece taught america. plus, i didn't even say what america and japan did. maybe you'll never know mwuahahaha! and don't worry, the greeks still had plenty of anal too. admit it, you were worried!**


	9. Chapter 9

America returned with his brother a few minutes later, followed by Japan and Greece. The couple kept apart at an awkward distance, so their problems were far from solved. However, Japan nodded civilly to America when the group split. The larger nation lowered himself into a new seat next to Canada, as the large dent in his previous workspace prevented anyone from using the spot. He seemed in better spirits, passing notes with his brother while Ukraine made a well-organized proposal. Unfortunately for her, she got rather flustered and kept dropping her notes. After a few more failed attempts, she ended it prematurely, returning to her seat while trying to hide her embarrassment. Russia felt bad for his sister. He knew she was especially stressed in large part due to the actions of his boss, and he wished there was something in his power that he could do for her.

"Alright, Russia has volunteered to give a quick summary of the established committee's first meeting last night. If you find that you'd now like to contribute, let me know and I'll contact you about the next meeting. We want to use as little summit time as possible for extracurricular committee matters," Germany nodded to Russia, who was already at the podium.

It wasn't a speech that left him much room to impress. He knew it would be a bit dull as he relayed the main points of research they had uncovered last night. Luckily, it was just over ten minutes, not enough time for the nations to lose interest and fall asleep.

"Thank you, Russia," Germany said.

For the next few hours, various countries spoke. By now most had given their first mandatory presentation, and a few had given their second. At the conclusion of everyone's two speeches, which usually happened at around day 6 or 7, they'd break into smaller groups and choose three or four of the already discussed topics and focus on solving or elaborating on them for two days. They'd present their pieces, all of them in one very long and taxing day, and finally the last few days consisted of an open debate. They would all submit talking points and opposing pairs were created, although there was also time for impromptu debates. It was a healthy way for them to conclude the two week summit, as it forced them to bring to mind all that they'd learned and apply it appropriately. To Russia, the exercise was never very useful. Most of the time whichever nation made the scariest face ended up being right, or nations would come to childish blows and fail to find a victor.

The North American twins were inseparable during the presentations, still passing messages and doodles to each other, though both were also writing rather detailed notes. They left for lunch together, and at the end of the day they both headed toward the city and away from their lodgings. Most other nations, exhausted from a day's work, went home to rest for a few hours before dinner—it's not as if any of them had never been to Venice before. They were past their tourist days in the beautiful city and more than happy to lock themselves away instead of spend another moment being active.

Russia was no different, and he stretched out on his living room couch, lazily flipping through channels until he found something remotely interesting.

An hour into his rest, there was a knock at the door. He had left it unlocked because he knew he had nothing to fear, so he didn't even have to move. "Come in," he yelled, loud enough to reach his guest.

The door creaked as the man entered, his slow pace unnecessarily drawing out the action. "Hello again, Russia," Greece said. "Are you free to talk for a bit?"

"Da, make yourself at home," he replied, muting the silly cartoon he had stumbled upon.

"Thanks," he mumbled, shuffling to the loveseat next to the couch.

"Shouldn't you be begging for Japan's forgiveness? Or have you chosen America instead?"

He shrugged, "Japan and I will be just fine, despite all this. I was curious, though. This morning, I could see it in your eyes. You were jealous… of me. I know you were the one who told Japan about us. Although I'm glad you did. I wish I hadn't slept through his speech. I didn't realize how upset he'd be. I didn't want to hurt him, but at the same time it's reassuring to know that he still cares enough. Part of me wants to say thank you, but a much larger part of me still thinks you're a dick for that.

"Anyway, I won't tell anyone about this. I won't even listen to your attempt to disagree with it. I'll be honest, while I love Japan, if he hadn't spoken out like that, if he didn't show me how angry he was, there's a high possibility that I'd be with America again tonight, and the next night, and for however long he'd have me. He's always been an easy guy to like, so sweet and optimistic. I never thought I could love such a nation, and it wasn't until this morning that I realize that maybe I could. That maybe anyone could.

"But, while he was more than generous enough, something about him was different from before. He's always been a giver, in all parts of his life. We've discussed these types of things in detail in the past, and I know this about him. He's got all the makings of a taker, but he fights against it so hard to please others. There's nothing innately wrong with it, but a conflict of the self will lead to strife. He's behaving selfishly, not afraid of his power anymore, and with it he's realizing that he can make claims to things others can't, merely because no one will oppose him.

"I'm warning you to be careful with your feelings for him. Don't let him take and not give back, because that's not who he is. I'm hoping this is just temporary and he's back to himself soon, but in the meantime, no matter how he tries to persuade you, recognize when he's just using you. It's tough to tell; he's a good actor—perhaps he doesn't even realize his deceptions. But for now, I would keep my guard up if I were you. I'd give this advice to anyone who I thought was interested in him right now, mind you. Something's off, and until he gets help, relations with him would really complicate things."

He spoke quicker than normal, thankfully, as his long speech at his usual pace would've lasted twenty minutes longer than necessary. "You're not the first person I've heard from concerning America's untrustworthiness as of late."

Greece crossed his arms. "I wouldn't say he's untrustworthy. Sure, a bit unpredictable, but I know deep down that he knows what's right. I think he's just going through a bit of a tough time. He's already shown that he's got the will to make good changes in his home, and I think with time he will heal. And I wouldn't turn my back on him anytime soon."

"I'm sure most of his friends would say the same thing."

He nodded, "Yes, even though Japan is mad at him right now, he feels the same way. I'm glad you've been helping him out lately, and now it seems Canada is too. I know this doesn't make much sense given what I just said, but I think you should remain close to him as a friend."

"I wasn't planning on leaving him anytime soon."

"That's good. I'm worried that his enemies will see this as a time to strike, but he has all of usual allies still on his side, and perhaps even you as well, should the need arise?"

He gave a noncommittal grunt; Greece smiled.

"Well, I should be going. I have to play with my kittens as I'm sure they've been bored all day," he stood and ambled toward the door. With a parting nod, he was gone, the door shutting behind him at a glacial pace.

Russia wasn't too bothered by the random exchange. He was quite happy that he'd been able to continue laying down throughout—he certainly enjoyed being horizontal—and it was pleasant that someone cared to warn him about anything. Could it be that he had a new friend? It wasn't likely, seeing as Russia had so callously interfered in his personal affairs just hours before. Well, he supposed Greece's concern for him was only because of America; if Russia allowed him to "use" him, as Greece feared he would do, he'd be enabling the ailing country in unhealthy behaviors. Still, even though Greece's care wasn't for him directly, he still felt a bit light after the meeting. So many countries had entered his temporary home these past few days! With a bright smile, he turned the sound on his TV back up, ready for another few hours of mindless dribble.

Across the city, America was not so surprisingly knocking back shots with his brother. He grinned at his twin, who was equally inebriated in solidarity.

"Gosh, I've missed you bro! You said that you'd visit me before the summit when I was in Montreal, and you never did!"

"Sorry, Al. You know I've been busy with getting my new Prime Minister up to speed on things."

"Oh ya, Trudeau, AKA True Daddy! You lucked out with him man, he's so hot!"

Matthew blushed, "Al, that's so inappropriate! How'd you feel if I started talking about your boss like that?"

"Well I couldn't say I'd blame you, mine's a pretty suave dude himself!" He threw an arm around his brother. "Aren't you excited about the next few years, Mattie? You and I, nothing separating us! We can finally be united!" He paled. "Oh god, I'm kinda starting to sound like Russia. 'Be one with me, da?'" He laid the accent on thick and added a wink.

Canada chuckled. "Now that would be terrifying. But I am glad that you're being so active now. And your plans actually make some sense."

"Yeah, well what kind of hero would I be if I didn't take my best bro's advice from time to time?"

Canada raised a brow. "What do you mean?" He rarely advised America, since most conversations they had were rather one-sided.

"And I thought _I_ was forgetful! Guess that three-hour roast session you treated me to didn't leave as much of a mark on you as it did on me."

"Ah, that? That was years ago! Back when you missed a meeting at my house because you were high as shit!"

America laughed, "Dude, you shoulda came, Woodstock was a blast. And the year before I was on some next level shit during the conference in Turkey and I didn't wanna offend you like that!"

"How considerate."

"But yeah, you came barging into my room—"

"If I remember you were tripping pretty badly even then."

"I was fucked up. But you were a champ, waiting for me to come down—after such a long bender it was rough. And then just as I recovered you tore me a new one!"

"I was so pissed!"

America was still laughing. "No worries, I understand! Even as I was crying you would not let up!" His chuckling died down, and he acquired a more serious tone. "I guess it's taken me a bit more time than anyone would like; I had to remember where I went wrong before I could start to fix it."

Canada placed some money on the bar. "Come on, I think you've had enough. You're getting too lucid and sweet."

"Aww… my baby bro thinks I'm cute!" America cooed, throwing his arms over his brother. "But, if I'm too lucid, that just means I haven't had enough!"

Canada laughed. "Dude, we have the committee meeting to get to. Plus you cleaned out this place's bottom shelf tequila supplies. And I think the local group is sick of our talking." Indeed, the elderly crowd had been glaring at the drinking duo for the better part of an hour.

"We need to find some younger bars tomorrow!"

"We started at 5 pm, young places aren't open this early!"

"Well then maybe we need to find cooler old people!" The glares intensified at the quip.

After settling their tabs, the countries made their way to France's house. They arrived just before the meeting started, sitting together across from Greece and Russia. America, slightly buzzed and in a much better mood thanks to Canada, smiled at his two friends. Greece blinked slowly while Russia returned the smile.

Canada didn't like how easily his brother could move past troubles sometimes, and it seemed that the drama he'd contributed to was no different. He was shameless, always had been in an ignorant sort of way. Not having to deal with the consequences of your actions was one of the few perks of being a superpower. However, sitting so high often numbed a nation to the harm they inadvertently brought about as well. How could a young and immature nation not be expected to treat the world like his playground?

"Alright my fellow nations, let's get started!" France shouted over the idle chit chat. "Tonight we'll be having a several course meal featuring some of my most popular dishes. And of course the best wine my land has to offer!"

"We aren't supposed to be drinking at these meetings," Germany groaned.

"Dude, you're totally trying to upstage me!" America whined. He huffed and crossed his arms, mumbling to Canada. "Tch. Guess pizza isn't good enough for _some people_."

"I, la Republique Francaise, move to allow wine at this and all remaining committee meetings."

"Seconded!" Poland said.

"And the vote?" All nations in attendance excluding Germany and Sweden voted in favor, and wine glasses were passed around, soon being filled with a deep red liquid.

"Good thing we pregamed with the hard stuff instead of beer, huh Mattie?"

Germany cried out. "You pregamed this?"

"Well, not intentionally. I was only kidding, we just had a few drinks after work what's wrong with that?"

"Thanks for the invite!" Poland pouted.

"I wanna drink with America and Canada!" a short country shouted.

England spit out his tea. "Sealand, what are you doing here?"

"They couldn't get a babysitter for me in time," he explained.

"Is it okay?" Sweden asked, staring steadily.

"Yeah, I'm fine with it since he's not technically a nation. And I assume he won't go blabbing all our secrets," America said. Everyone agreed. Sealand wasn't a fan of the word choice but was satiated when his caretaker allowed him a small glass of wine with the delicious French meal.

During the second course, America complained through his food. "You know, pizza's good for meetings 'cause we can actually talk during it. This dainty stuff isn't so conducive for conversation."

"But my food will make everyone happy and productive and the wine will make us creative."

"Ve~ this food is so good, big brother, but it's making me sleepy."

Greece nodded.

America nodded, "Now that you mention it, I may be all wined out." He clapped his hands together. "I have a great idea, let's chill in the lounge for the meeting."

"I'm down for that!"

"We won't get anything down once people start laying around," Germany countered.

"But these lounges have bean bags and the comfiest loveseats!" Italy added.

"They do? That's sick!" America was already up, ready to claim the biggest bean bag.

"Have you guys not even looked around your houses?" Italy frowned. "I worked so hard to make these places so comfy and homey and pretty and you guys haven't even checked them out entirely yet?"

"The accommodations are very lovely, Italy!" France said.

"Super classy!" America agreed. Happy with that, Italy and the rest of the group relocated to France's lounge, settling wherever space was available. America had successfully snagged his desired bean bag, but was forced to scoot over and make room for a cuddly Poland. England started off the talks, but within a few minutes everyone was starting to nod off. Even Germany's eyes were drooping, a warm Mediterranean nation sighing contentedly against his shoulder. The conversation dead, most nations decided to head home rather than lounge with more wine.

America was one of the last nations to leave, he'd been enjoying catching up with his adoptive family, but finally excused himself. In spite of the wine, or perhaps because of it, he felt awake and ready to do something active. So, on returning home he changed into shorts and a t-shirt in order to go on a late night jog.

Of course, as a young and strong nation, his jog turned into more of an hour long sprint. He had his headphones in, blasting some of his favorite hip hop and pop songs. The visibility was low as he meandered the streets, so he decided to make his way back home. The streets were well marked, and he remembered passing certain landmarks in his many cab rides, so he easily found his way back home.

Now walking down the nation's street, he took out his headphones. He knocked on a familiar door, stretching while he cooled down.

A not-too-happy Russian answered the door; his moody stomps could be heard from outside. While his expression lightened on seeing Alfred, he still seemed to be disturbed.

"What are you doing?"

Alfred touched his toes. "Stretching. It's an important part of the cool down. Gotta stay strong, but also agile."

"I'm assuming you didn't come here just to stretch on my porch?"

"You assume correctly. I was thinking about doing another memory download tonight. Nothing too big, though, I don't want to miss any more meetings. I was wondering if you'd care to help?"

"You really don't have anyone else to ask? Not even your brother?"

Alfred blinked at Russia's tone… if he didn't know better, he'd say he was offended. He was practically pouting. "Nah, you're the only one I'd ask for this stuff! And other things! We're bros now, aren't we? Well, Mattie and I are also bros but that's different… Anyway, if you're too busy with, like, sleeping—since you're old and all—I could just do it myself." His lower lip quivered, and his eyes seemed to glisten with potential tears.

"No need for the puppy face, Alfred. I will help you out. Just let me change out of my sleeping clothes."

America raised his fist. "Sick! I'll be at home—need to shower real quick. Then we can get busy!" He flushed. "Er… with making memories—I mean, downloading them. Okay well I'm leaving kay bye!" And with that graceful retort, he turned and ran to his house.

* * *

 **A/n: hello hello! so, sorry for the delay and the short chapter. i had my first of four finals today and have been busy studying. Anyway, i'm hoping to have the next one up maybe wednesday or thursday? i have exams everyday so don't get too hopeful. Feel free to drop a review too ;)**

 **also, working out while tipsy is not fun. 3/10 would not recommend.**


	10. Chapter 10

Not even twenty minutes later—"Told you not to doubt the amazing Alfred Faster-than-Lightning Jones!"—America had showered and managed to set up the computer on his nightstand. His new idea was to try downloading the memories all at once again, but having learned from last time, he altered the settings so that the processing would be slower.

"That should do it!" He shouted, jumping up and landing on his back in the bed. "Now, I'm going to try to sleep, and then you'll hit start, okay?" Russia nodded. "Assuming I don't wake up, you should be good to go after that. You're welcome to stay here too, but only on the condition that you don't watch me while I sleep. That's just creepy."

"But watching you fall asleep is not?"

"Exactly!"

"Alright, I will go along with this plan." They stared at one another for a tense minute.

"Augh! Stop staring at me! How can I fall asleep like this? You didn't even blink!"

"I have no recommendations. When I cannot fall asleep I usually just drink."

"No thank you, I was hungover all during my run and am just starting to feel better now. So no more alcohol for me tonight." He pursed his lips. "I know! How about you tell me a story?"

"That is an idiotic idea. You are no longer a scared child."

"But I need mental stimulation! And the more creative it is, the more my brain goes into overdrive and then I can find that sweet spot and boom! Dream land, population: Alfred."

"Your brain makes little sense to me."

"It's either you tell me a story or you have to watch me read a textbook till I fall asleep."

"Textbook? Are you a college student now?"

"I always like to keep my mind sharp! Right now I'm studying up on some biochem, it's fascinating stuff! Namely I'm interested in recombinant organisms for use in bioremediation—"

"Your words are boring so I will satisfy your curiosity with a story," he interrupted, still somewhat annoyed at having been disturbed from his home. But, how could he have said no after promising to both Alfred and Tony that he'd help him through his rehabilitation? "Many years ago, there was a beautiful young girl. She was the daughter of her nation's ruler, and was betrothed to a man in another nation very far away from her home. The marriage was necessary to unite the two powers as allies, as they wished to defeat a mutual enemy." America seemed content with the intro, and pulled his blanket up to his chin.

"The evening before her wedding ceremony, the girl was visited by an angel, radiating warmth and light. Her face was so bright that the girl couldn't even make out the face or her true form. The angel said to the girl, 'Fear not, young one, though you do not know the man you are to wed. He will be powerful, and with you by his side, both of your people shall prosper.' The young girl was happy and felt much less worried. She asked the angel, 'Will I be happy as well, as his queen and the mother to his children?'

"The angel only laughed, 'Selfish girl, I just told you of the coming of fortune for millions and yet you think only of one. Show any doubts like this to your husband and your people will suffer.' With that the angel placed a burning hand on the girl's back, and she fell asleep. The next day she was wed, meeting her husband for the first time. He was an older gentleman, the general of his armies. He was kind to her their wedding night, and by morning, he was off to battle. Months passed and his and her father's army was nearing victory. As a child grew within her, their enemy's grew more and more nefarious. A spy infiltrated the castle and stole away the queen with her unborn child, bringing her to the foreign land.

"This king was handsome, his beauty rivaled that of their gods. He was taken with the queen, and instead of sullying her as a war trophy, chose to woo her to his side instead. Their courtship blossomed, and the queen found herself loving the kind man more and more each day. But, as she neared her due date, her child would kick whenever he came near her, reminding her of what she'd been forced to leave behind. Just as the angel had warned her, the queen never doubted her husband while she was a prisoner.

"Finally, the war neared its end and the foreign army surrendered. The losing king was forced to the front line, along with his captive the queen. As her husband raised his axe to behead the young man, the queen cried out, blocking his swing by grabbing his wrist. He was furious. 'You dare doubt me? I was told long ago by an angel of the Lord that you would doubt me on my greatest day of victory. Now I have no choice.' He swung the axe at the queen, slicing her neck halfway through. She fell to the ground, screaming. With her last bit of strength, she gave birth to her child, a young boy the spitting image of his father. Wrought with grief at what he'd done, the old king took the baby and cradled him to his chest. The young king took the opportunity and impaled his oppressor, who fell forward and crushed the baby under his chest. In the chaos, the armies were once again at arms, but the young king stopped. He rolled over the dead man's body and rescued the suffering infant, whose screams could not be heard over the battle. This baby and the woman had been promised to him by the same angel, and the only payment she required was blood. And so from then on he gave her what she wanted—he waged war after war across the land, watering the plants with red instead of rain. His adopted son grew to be a mighty general, before whom the angel also appeared. Satiated with the blood, she asked him to kill his father and eat his heart, as it would be the only way to end his campaign.

"The young general followed her orders and in exchange became the new king. He was called Redbeard, as he didn't stop with just one heart; many an enemy lost their lives and their organs to the hungry king, and the angel was happy that her ruse worked. The end."

America's brows were knitted, his jaw stuck. He sputtered for a few seconds. "Dude! What the fuck? That's an awful story! Why would you come up with that? That's not one of your people's fairy tales is it? Where's the happy ending?"

"The happy ending is for the angel. She manipulated the silly humans and got what she wanted. It is a proverb commending patience and commitment to a goal. Also, it advises children to not believe the words of mysterious strangers, or at least not to let them sway them too much."

He sighed, "That's sick dude. Couldn't you have told me like, the Princess and the Frog or something?"

"Da, I know that one as well. But it is for children. Stories for adults should have more meaning, don't you agree?"

"Not when I'm trying to sleep! I totally thought she'd fall in love and the love would save the kingdoms and her son would be happy marrying whoever he wanted and everything would be great!"

"It is not a realistic expectation."

He huffed. "Such a pessimist!"

"A realist."

"Whatever. Alright, I supposed that'll be fine," he yawned. "Not as scary as Japan's stories at least, just gory." He snuggled into his pillow. "Someday I'll teach you how to tell a good bedtime story."

Russia merely nodded as the young nation drifted off to sleep. He waited a few minutes for the breathing to grow even before activating the machine. He was set to leave until he heard a soft whine coming from the blond's mouth. With a sigh, he settled next to America, whose face was twisted with pain. Russia drew the nation into his arms, running his finger through his hair. It was an affectionate gesture, but he only meant to calm America. Soon enough he stilled, but Russia kept him close just in case another memory triggered a similar response.

Hours later, Russia awoke, groaning at his sore neck. He scooched away from a drooling America and stretched. Despite the temporary soreness, he'd slept rather well. He glanced at the computer and saw that the files had all successfully downloaded. His noise awoke the American, who sat up as ungracefully as possible.

He yawned loudly, his white teeth flashing. "Dude, my plan worked, thank goodness! I kinda feel all the new things, but it wasn't as intense since it all got incorporated into my dream. Along with some heart-eating angels, I might add."

"I am glad it worked. Now, we should get to the meeting."

America raised a brow, "Uh, Ivan, did you forget? We get Sundays off this year!"

"Why's that?"

"Well it's the Lord's day!"

"Not many nations are as religious as you."

"You're pretty religious too. So's China, though maybe he doesn't care so much about Western practices. But tons of us in the Americas are. Plus, even if you're not, it's nice to get a break every now and then."

"Well, I should use this break to catch up on work, I think."

"Aw come on, it's a day of rest! At least come to church with me and maybe we can do brunch."

"I don't really go to church anymore."

"Why's that?"

"While my people find comfort in it, it is no longer appealing to me. Most of the other nations feel this way. We've grown out of our theocratic phases."

"Trust me, I know all about that separation of church and state stuff. But don't you have any spiritual urges?"

"Nyet."

He crossed his arms. "Fine, I won't force you to go. But I'd very much like to go to mass."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Do you really have any faith in this God? Having seen what you have in the world, knowing of the existence of aliens and creatures like us? Those texts do not speak of these things, so why believe in them?"

"Ah, well, I guess I don't believe in all that stuff. My people have tons of religions and beliefs, so it'd be impossible for me to follow them all. I guess what I'm more driven by is the hope that faith brings. I can feel it in my people, and it's beautiful. Surely you feel it too? I think we underestimate humans sometimes. We like to think we're in charge, but they have such a power over us still. They can feel so much, love to their heart's content… whether it be an unknowable god or another human, I can still feel it too." He frowned. "I guess that's why I didn't think I could get rid of my heart. It's what connects me to my people."

Russia was quiet, thinking on his own religious practice. Of course many of his own people were religious, and long ago he'd been taken with the rituals, the beautiful churches. He'd had his fill of seeing gilded churches besides burning houses; fat priests yelling at starving orphans. He had long since turned his back on his churches when he saw that they weren't serving his people. Usually he admired Alfred's optimism, but with this he was too bitter.

"I will attend a church service with you, if you wish. And after eating we can try to put your heart in."

He grinned. "Awesome! According to the computer, I've got eighty-seven percent downloaded!" He browsed the files. "Hmm, this is weird. I can't find anything else, though. What's the other thirteen percent?"

"I believe that was taken by Tony."

"Huh? How come?"

"It's the original memory you extracted, as well as the memory of your conversation with him. He told me he'd give it to you when he thought you were ready."

"Ah, that makes sense. Anyway, let me change and we'll get going." He darted into his closet, throwing clothes behind him until he decided on an outfit. He came out in a pair of grey slacks, tight on his legs and ending in small cuffs at the bottoms and a light-blue button up rolled to his elbows. On his feet he wore brown leather slip-ons that matched his belt. Russia thought the look was very European, and was surprised to see him following such fashions. Throwing a blazer over his shoulder in case it got chilly, he deemed himself ready to go.

The pair wandered the streets until America found what he was looking for. A small church welcomed them. While Alfred conversed with another guest, Ivan found a seat near the back. The morning mass was about to start, and he was already determined to take a nap. For one he couldn't speak Italian, and secondly, since he wasn't Catholic, the service would do little to move him. America sat next to him, smiling as he whispered a summary of his conversation. Russia nodded along and was already drifting off by the time the opening hymn began.

He awoke to a near-empty church. The guests had filed out and the choir was cleaning up. America was nowhere to be seen, but Russia figured he wouldn't abandon him. Choosing to wait outside in the garden rather than in the incense-filled room, he stood up and left.

Within a few minutes, a cheery blond waved at his tall friend.

"Glad to see you're awake! Sorry, I decided to do confession. Now, let's get some food! We'll just barely be beating the _riposo_ , thankfully." They found a simple café and each enjoyed some pasta. America talked a lot, as he usually did, but when he did ask Russia a question, he never interrupted and seemed to soak in every word. Russia found himself enjoying the sensation of being listened to and would have been more than happy to keep conversing had the subject of their conversation not drifted to world politics. America smiled sheepishly as Russia bristled at the mention of Ukraine.

"Sorry, I'll try not to talk about that stuff. Alright, let's head back home and get me whole again. Tony should be back today, too, so he'll be happy to see everything in order!" America insisted on paying the check—"Bro, I'm about eight times richer than you"—and led the Russian back to his home. Ivan made a quick stop at his house to get the heart before rejoining America in his living room.

The blond was chatting again, though this time with Tony.

"Hello, suka. ( _bitch_ ) Alright, where's the damn thing, then?" he held out his hand.

"Nice to see you too, Tony." He tossed the organ over, feeling much warmer as he parted with it.

"Fucking shit this is icy! There's no way this can go in Alfred!"

"Huh? Let me see it." He grabbed his heart from Tony, shivering at the touch. "Damn, that will hurt." He held it over his chest and _pushed_. A loud crack could be heard.

"Shit!" Tony shouted. America immediately stopped pushing, investigating the glass-like piece.

"It's okay, just a small crack. Yeah, this isn't going in anytime soon."

"It's only getting colder! But you don't seem so off… How strange." Tony took the heart back and stood in front of Russia. "Alright, call me crazy, but there's something I've gotta try. We can't let his heart go on like this or it'll never thaw!"

"What are you—" Russia never got the chance to finish his sentence before Tony thrust the heart into his chest cavity. The intruding organ bumped his own heart, the cold making him crumple.

"Ivan!" Alfred caught the other man. "Tony, what the hell? You trying to kill him?"

Russia took a few shuddering breaths. "Nyet, I am fine, Alfred. It was just shocking, like jumping into an icy pond."

"Sorry Russia, but this heart needs to be somewhere alive. Hopefully within a few days it'll be ready for Al's body again."

America rubbed his friend's back. "I'm sorry about all this. How does it feel?"

"Strange. Right now it is just a lump of ice. It is not even beating."

America cried out, clutching at his own chest. He winced, and his heart gave a single beat from Russia's chest.

"Why am _I_ hurting?" he panted.

"With your heart closed off now, I think your head is confused. It has to process all the memories without the right emotional outlet. But we can't leave it out right now."

"Can't we just like, physically put it in? Like do a fucking surgery, open me up or something?"

"I feel like putting it in as it is now and linking it directly to the remembered pain… it would shatter. Just as your pushing cracked it, the flood of emotions would overpower it."

He groaned again, leaning against Russia who was now the support in the embrace. "What about you, big guy? You feeling better?"

"Da. I am not bothered by the cold. Although I do not know if I am the best candidate for an oven. I myself am far from warm."

"Well we don't want to heat blast the thing! I just said too much will crack it. Slow and steady thawing is what we need, so you're perfect."

America started to sway, stumbling away with a light push. "I'll be right back." He made it to the nearest bathroom just before emptying his stomach of their lunch. Tony was immediately behind him, patting his back and handing him a water bottle. He rinsed out his mouth and spat out the residual bile, wiping his face before flushing. It was over quickly, and he washed his hands and face with a seemingly practiced ease. By then Russia was back on his feet, the foreign organ still an odd sensation but no longer bothersome.

America exited the bathroom looking less like himself than ever. His eyes were dark, and his mouth was set in a firm line. His usually expressive face was impossible to read. He groaned.

"This… feels weird. I think I need to go to bed for, like… ever maybe."

"What's wrong, Al?" Tony asked.

"I don't know, and I don't care. My head is pounding right now. I'm going to pass the fuck out now. Don't bother me unless you've got ice cream or whiskey please." He didn't even try to go upstairs to his room, instead dropping himself on the living room couch. After a few seconds of pained noises, he started to snore.

"I wasn't expecting that reaction," Tony confessed.

"And just what part of this whole scenario were you expecting?" Russia snapped back.

The alien sighed. "You're right, this is all a huge mess. How was he while I was gone?"

"Not himself, to say the least. And he may have made a slight enemy of Japan when he decided to fuck Greece."

"Heracles?" Tony crossed his arms, drumming his fingers while he thought. "That's an odd development. Not a permanent thing I'm assuming?"

"No."

"That's not Al's style at all. And how have you been?"

Russia stiffened. "Me?"

"Yeah, dumbass, you. You've stuck with him through this, for which I'm very grateful, but surely it must be taxing to deal with?"

"There have been some difficult moments. But it is nothing I can't handle."

"That's good. Once he gets his heart back I'm sure things will be smooth sailing. You guys can be friends without anything holding you back. Or you know, whatever."

"Friends is fine, thank you for your concern."

"You sure? That hickey on your neck was just a friend thing, then?"

Russia settled further into his scarf. "Why assume it was Alfred's doing?"

"Who else would you even let touch you like that these days?"

"I assure you—" he began, but trailed off when he actually started to think about Tony's words. The thought of anyone else being near him other than Alfred was laughable. He continued, "Regardless, he was not himself and so I pushed him away. And apparently into Greece's arms."

"Hmmm… I'm sorry if that was weird for you. You know, you should be nice like this more often. You don't seem so scary to me right now."

He bristled at the compliment. Could it be that yet another person was concerned for his well-being? Despite the unfamiliarity of the sensation, he felt warmed by the care. His second heart gave a soft thump, and a startled "Oh" slid out of his mouth.

Tony stared at him, "That was the cutest fucking thing I've ever seen. And England showed me Al's baby pictures. What was that for?"

He rubbed his chest. "Alfred's heart enjoyed your words, it seemed."

"Don't be dumb, hearts can't hear. What it enjoyed were your happy feelings. Alright then. That means we've gotta make sure you stay happy while that heart's inside of you. I, uh, unfortunately can't really go outside, though, so we'll have to make do in here. Of course you're free to do whatever else you want to as well. What would make you happiest, do you think?"

It took all of Ivan's willpower not to turn toward the snoring nation in the room. Instead, he and Tony went to the lounge to watch _Prison Break_. While he enjoyed the show itself, he found himself having a great—albeit vulgar—conversation with Tony. Had Alfred been there, he surely would've been embarrassed by all the stories Tony had about him from his younger days. Soon Russia was smiling, and Alfred's heart was beating at a regular pace. It was still significantly slower than his own pulse, but it was a good start.

He returned to his home for dinner and ate alone, not bothered by the empty house. He showered and got ready for bed, nursing a bottle of vodka as his dessert. He flipped through his many missed messages, most from his boss and his younger sister, but chose to take care of them tomorrow. Since he had already cleaned himself, he set his alarm for slightly later in the morning, and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

"—would be awesome! And everyone knows it!" Prussia yelled, excited with his genius.

"It's a dumb plan, and you know it," France retorted.

"You just don't understand because you're not as awesome as me! Ah, here's America now! Hey, America, tell France here that my idea is—"

"United States of America," he interrupted, his voice cutting through the conversation like steel.

Prussia saw the look in the nation's eyes and chose to back down. He recognized the look from his own days as a superpower and knew it'd be wise not to talk back.

"What was that, Amerique?" France asked.

"I think it'd make more sense if everyone started calling me by my actual name, don't you? I'm not the only nation here representing America. I'm not even the only North American. It's not much of a change, is it? United States is fine, or even USA. I know you'd prefer Les Etats Unis, which is just fine too." He sat at the conference table beside his brother, who while slightly intimidated, still smiled at Alfred.

"Ah, I suppose that makes sense," France smiled, and with a small nod, took his seat next to England. Alfred had been the last nation to arrive on time. While he stared coldly at the clock, the room held its breath. The seconds ticked by, each one growing ever louder with its silence. Finally, it was nine o'clock. The blond stood.

"Alright, everyone, let's get this show on the road. Now, I believe Hungary will be presenting first, followed by the Netherlands. Are both of you ready?" his eyes pierced the tense air, locking first with Hungary's then with Netherlands's.

"Yes!" they both shouted. Hungary shot to the podium while Alfred sat back down. She immediately began her speech, stopping only to answer questions from the ever curious world power. Netherlands's presentation followed a similar pattern. As he concluded, Alfred was too busy taking notes to speak further, so Germany took control of the procession once again. The other nations waited for Alfred to retaliate, but he never did, instead settling comfortably in his chair.

Before Germany could present the next speaker, Russia entered the room, bearing two large Starbucks cups.

"Hello everyone, sorry I'm late," he smiled. He sat on Alfred's other side, placing a beverage in front of him. "I see why you like these drinks so much, they're quite tasty!"

Alfred stared at the cup, then at Russia. The taller nation merely smiled softly, oozing sweetness from every pore.

"Thank you, that's very considerate. Though you should try not to be late on my behalf," Alfred finally said. Everyone released their held breaths while he took a sip.

"It wasn't your fault, silly! I slept in and was going to be late anyway, but decided to treat myself!" The other nations could've sworn they saw flowers around the Russian's head. Out of nowhere, Russia leaned against Alfred's shoulder. Had they not been so confused by the strangeness of the situation, the others would've been overwhelmed by the cuteness. Despite his anger at Alfred, Japan couldn't help but to snap a quick picture on his phone.

"Hm, you're making a scene with this entrance," Alfred mumbled over his latte. "You were saying something, Germany?"

He started at the direct address, but quickly recovered. "Er, yes, right. Next we have… wait who is this? Oh yeah, Canada and then Turkey."

Despite Russia practically nuzzling his arm, Alfred managed to take good notes during the remaining presentations. During break the pair chatted, and no one dared approach them or gossip about the strange couple while within ear shot.

"By the way, you look very handsome today, Alfred! I miss the military suit, though."

"I only packed a few formal uniforms. Is this not adequate?" he sniffed while tugging at his grey blazer.

"Nyet! I just said you looked good. Oh, I'm hungry. I didn't have time to eat breakfast," Russia pouted. Alfred stood and made his way to the snack cart, piling pastry upon pastry on several plates. He returned to his seat while placing the food in front of his friend.

"Aw, so sweet of you!" Russia blushed then happily dug into his breakfast. Alfred munched on his own donut, staring at Russia with a quiet intensity. Russia finally noticed sometime during his third crepe and blushed in response. "Can I help you, Alfred?"

"No."

"Why are you staring at me?"

Alfred turned his head, though his eyes remained fixed on Russia. "Am I? I apologize. You just seem a bit… different from usual. You're smiling a lot, and not in a scary way."

He frowned. "You think I'm scary?"

"I didn't say that, I'm just wondering if something's wrong with you?"

"Well, this is what happens when one of us has two hearts acting up and the other one has none!" A single tear escaped Russia's eye. "Why are you being so critical when I'm just trying to help you!" Russia slumped forward, his head hitting the table with a dull thud. Alfred was able to move the pastries before they met an untimely end. He patted the older nation's head.

"There there…" he started, unsure of what to do. His head was well acquainted with the theory of comforting another, but the act of emoting or showing empathy was impossible for him. "I did not mean to hurt your feelings, Ivan. What can I do to make it up to you?"

Russia shot up, his tears forgotten and replaced with a bright grin. "I want you to smile! You seem so glum!"

Alfred gave a lazy upturn of his lips. "Are you happy now?" Russia's pout and crossed arms hinted otherwise. America sighed, bracing himself. His cheeks weren't too pressed by the familiar expression, but he still felt odd about it. He held the manic grin for all of five seconds before Russia burst into laughter.

"Ah!" he gasped between shaky laughs. "You had an orange aura around you and everything! If it wasn't so hilarious I'd have peed myself! O moy Bog I'm fucking dead." His face met the table once more, though this time he convulsed with mirth rather than sorrow.

"Alright I get it, I look ridiculous. Are you satisfied with my apology?"

Once more Russia was perfectly recovered. "Of course not!" he grinned for a moment before sticking out his lower lip, widening his eyes till he looked like a kicked puppy.

Alfred sighed again. "Please tell me you're not planning on milking this for all that it's worth…"

"I would never lie to you!" he smiled, thoughts already racing for ways to bother his friend.

* * *

 **a/n: yay for maximum OOC cuteness! sorry for the delay in updating, had to finish up finals and then deal with traveling and since i've gotten home i've barely had a free moment to write! anyway, hope you enjoyed! keep the love coming my faithful readers.**

 **oh ya, russia's bedtime story means absolutely nothing, i just wrote it randomly haha. also, if you're wondering why the frozen heart was able to go in russia but not america, it's not just for convenience! america's body is rejecting it since it brings pain, but ivan's body doesn't know that, and in fact it seems to be bringing him some happiness. is it love? or is it fancy feast?**


	11. Chapter 11

"Allllfredddd…" Russia whined. "I'm so bored." Russia's head was on America's lap, and they were both relaxing in the American's home.

Alfred didn't look away from his book. "Well there's very little I can do to help you there. Besides," he set his book on Russia's chest. "'Man is a creature who can get used to anything, and I believe that is the very best way of defining him'. Your Dostoevsky wrote this, and he was talking about things much worse than boredom."

Russia huffed. "I can't believe you're reading that dreadful book near me."

"Why? Don't care to remember your lovely Siberian prison camps? I'd hope by now you'd have learned from me just how bad of an idea it is to forget things."

Russia waved his hand. "Of course I didn't forget, but those things are in my past, so I'd rather not dwell on it. But, you've been reading for an hour now! Can't we do something more fun?"

"Such as?"

"We could tour the city some more! Or hang out with your friends! Anything but this. You're not even reading it in Russian, it's insulting!"

America picked up his book and shut it. "Very well, we can go for a quick walk. But we have the committee meeting at 6:30 so we can't be too long."

Russia hopped up, smiling brightly. "Good! We can get some gelato before we have dinner, or maybe a quick pastry at a café."

America stood much more slowly, stretching his back. Russia giggled. "What's so funny?"

"You're groaning like an old man! You're much younger than me, and yet I have all the energy!"

"Just because I've been a nation for less time doesn't make my land, my body, any younger. And my people are quite adept at using the land for resources, which tires me out too," he yawned.

"Oh, I guess I never thought of it like that!"

"And you're only so bubbly because you're sucking the energy out of my heart!"

"I think your heart is sucking the energy out of me! But, even so, I feel much better. Anyway, are you ready to go? Or do you want to change?"

"I'm fine, thank you. Let's get going." America ushered Russia from his home, locking the door behind him. They'd lunched together earlier, and after the conference, decided to continue spending time with each other. Russia was very happy with the arrangement, and though he couldn't exactly _feel_ a certain way at the moment, America was also comfortable in the other's presence. Everyone else thought it was odd, especially with America glaring at everyone while Russia only smiled and laughed.

Once they found a quiet path, Russia hooked his arm through America's, hugging it to his chest. "Venice is such a romantic city, don't you think?" he asked, a light pink dusting his cheeks.

"It is very picturesque, I agree."

"It'd be nice to spend more time here without work. Get to know the city a bit better. With cities like this, I can see why Italy is so happy all the time!"

"And lazy," America added. "I suppose that's part of the charm of polychronic nations, though. But, you have lovely cities and sites as well."

"Oh, thank you. When was the last time you visited me?"

"Hmm… it was only a few years ago. I don't think you were there at the time, it was just a quick meeting between our bosses. But I enjoyed a night in Moscow and was able to explore all day."

"It's always been my favorite city. Next time you visit I insist that you stay with me in my home. Surely it's been a while since you've seen it."

America nodded. "And you haven't seen my estate in Virginia yet. I used to have lodgings in all of the states, but now I let each State live in those homes, and I've relocated closer to the capitol."

"An estate? You sound like nobility."

"Well, I needed something big enough to hold all my stuff, and my pets needed a place to roam. Plus it has a lot of room for whenever the States come to visit, or of course other nations. Matthew has his own room, although whenever he and England visit I don't let them anywhere near a flame," he glared. "I can't wait to get home and see my pets, actually. I always feel so bad when I leave them alone for so long."

Russia was quiet for a minute, and Alfred used the time to admire the scenery they found themselves walking through. His reverie was interrupted by a small sniffle. He looked up at Ivan, who attempted to cover his tears with his scarf. America stopped, stepping in front of Russia.

"Ivan? What's wrong?"

"It's… oh I'm just being stupid and emotional."

"You can tell me, I don't mind. You were there for me when I was being emotional and so I'll do the same for you. We're friends, and I don't want my friends to be sad if I can help it." He grabbed Ivan's hands in his own, bringing them to his lips with a soft touch.

"After this is over, when we leave Venice… I'm sure by then you'll have your heart back and everything will go back to normal. Will you still want to be my friend after that?"

America nodded, his eyes shining earnestly. "I wish I had even half of my heart right now, it's hard to reassure you when I have the emoting capability of a rock… but you don't have to worry. I can't even think about leaving you. You're not just my friend. I think… no, I know; you're my best friend, Ivan, and I'm so grateful that all this shit happened. Even though it's been a difficult situation, somehow it brought us back together. I'm sure this would make me very happy, so when I get my heart back I'll try to convey my feelings to you better."

Russia's tears continued their onslaught, so he reached out and crushed Alfred in a hug, letting them fall on the other's shirt. "I'm so happy to hear you say that! I don't have a lot of friends, so it's no surprise that you'd be my best friend. But it means a lot to hear you say that, even though you have Canada—"

"He's my brother, but there are some things even I can't tell him that I can share with you. Hey, don't worry about those other guys. I love them, they're my friends and family. But you… hell, we were sworn enemies for years, and yet I still prefer your company over others. If that's not a mark of a lasting friendship then I don't know what is." He rubbed Russia's back affectionately. "Would some gelato help you feel better?"

Russia could only nod, and so, ever the hero, America made it his goal to find the best gelato shop in town. While this claim could not be tested in the span of thirty minutes, they settled with a clean stand near the plaza. Russia helped himself to a large cup of chocolate cheesecake gelato while America stuck with a few scoops of lemon. The taller nation's tears had subsided, and the stoic American tried to keep a smile on his friend's face by telling him stories of his misadventures with a much younger Canada.

Soon it was time for the pair to retreat back to the other nations for yet another committee meeting. It wasn't too hard for Russia to persuade Alfred to buy him a second cup of gelato for the road. He was still smiling over his treat, spoon caught between pink lips, when the pair entered Turkey's home. They were just in time for the meeting and were each greeted with curt nods. Surprisingly, Russia went straight to the host nation and wrapped him in a hug. It was no secret that relations between the two nations were strained, so no one was expecting the action, especially not Turkey himself, whose boss had encouraged him to avoid Russia entirely for the past few months. While Alfred snatched Russia's gelato for fear that the affectionate nation would spill it, Russia proceeded to chat with the confused nation.

"Russia seems to be in a good mood," France observed, settling next to America.

"I suppose he is. Although if he doesn't sit down soon, his gelato will melt…"

"You two seem close these days too."

"We are on friendlier terms, yes."

France leaned forward, attempting to meet America's cold gaze. "Amer—I mean, United States… what's gotten into you? Is it something going on back home? You can tell us, you know. We're your friends too."

"I appreciate your concern, but there's no need to worry. My country is doing just fine right now." Alfred switched to French. "I'm surprised you have time to worry about me with all that you're going through."

France started. "Me? What do you mean?"

"It won't be long before the other nations find out about those plans you've been hiding."

"I don't know what you're talking about…"

"You should just be happy it was my people who found out first. I couldn't imagine the damage you'd incur had someone else heard about it. England certainly wouldn't appreciate the deception of your intelligence agency."

France chuckled nervously. "Well, don't act entirely blameless. It's your fault we're all in this mess in the Middle East, and I was forced to make do with the hand I was dealt. I assume you want something, then, for your silence?"

"You have nothing to offer me."

"Is that so? You really think so highly of your intelligence forces that you couldn't use any assistance? There's nothing you'd like to know about any Asian nations?"

"…now you've got my attention."

France smiled. "Good. I would hate for my improving relations with Angleterre to see problems over some trifling documents. So for your silence, my people will give your people all the info I've got on China."

America nodded. "Seems fair. We're on the same side, after all. I don't want you and England fighting, either, and anything to get a leg up on China will only serve our mutual organizational goals."

France glared. "I'm not sure what's gotten into you, and I don't appreciate the threats. We've always been allies… whatever is going on with you and Russia… I just hope you know what you're doing. And I hope both of you get back to normal."

"Normal? You wish for me to go back to being the laughingstock of the world?"

"No, I'm all for you getting your act together in your own country, but I would at least like some consistency from you. You've always had a bit of a wild streak, and we've learned to deal with it over the years. But as of right now I'm not so sure where your loyalties lie."

"My loyalties lie with my friends, as they always have. I did not intend to harm you. If I did I would've leaked the info I gathered rather than making this deal." He cleared his throat, raising his voice from hushed tone he had held and reverting back to nation-speak. "And I look forward to our continued dealings in the future, my friend." His fake smile was perfectly convincing to any other nations who'd grown curious as to the content of their hurried conversation.

"As do I, United States…" France returned the grin, clapping Alfred on the back harshly. The larger nation hardly flinched.

Turkey had finally freed himself from his uncharacteristically friendly exchange with Russia and moved to commence the meeting. Russia plopped down next to America, delighted to find his gelato still edible and not a warm brown puddle.

While the committee was solely devoted to the recent immigration crisis, the conversation ended up shifting to more tactical military matters. Turkey was heated about the ongoing war in his backyard, but found a surprising verbal combatant in the form of France, who was adamant about his and his allies' actions. The pair argued all throughout the simple meal of chicken and potatoes, and many a nation struggled to get them back on track. Finally, Russia made an emotional appeal, asking them to think of the millions of people forced to endure such awful living conditions rather than their own national agendas.

His request seemed to be affective, but when Egypt broke in with his opinion on the matter, they were at each other's throats once more.

Russia pouted, and spoke under his breath in his native tongue. "These two are being idiots, we're not going to get anything done today if they keep acting like this."

America sipped at his soda. "Not at all, but it's amusing at least. And very informative."

"What do you mean?"

"You can learn a lot about your allies from the way they treat their enemies."

"But you're all allies, aren't you?"

America shrugged. "These spats tend to ignore treaties, and when those are shuffled off, we see a much better picture of who a country really is. Of course, they could be faking these reactions, too."

"Like you were before?"

He nodded. "Exactly. Comparing what they're saying now to my own knowledge of their real agendas lets me see how, for instance, France _wants_ to be seen by others. This of course reveals character traits depending on how honest they are."

"I see. I think my boss has always wanted me to be more observant like that at these meetings, but I just enjoy everyone's company too much."

"It's probably a better way of existence. It's tough to find friends to trust when you know just how dishonest they act as a force of habit. Like my conversation with France earlier makes me more wary of his supposed friendship."

"I wonder why no one seems to trust me, then." Russia frowned. "I don't like lying, and am pretty upfront about what I want."

"People don't tend to appreciate bluntness or those who are confident enough to not put on airs. Ever since I've been a bit less silly and more pragmatic, people have shied away from me. They like those that can be controlled, the ones who try hard to impress others because we care about their opinions."

"So do you not care about their opinions anymore?"

"I'm not sure. I recognize the strategic implications of having others approve of me, of course, but at the moment it doesn't affect me too deeply where I'd change my ways for someone else. Well, maybe for you or someone, since I've come to value our friendship. And of course Matthew and Arthur will always be my significant allies, too, so I don't want them to be upset with me."

Russia felt warmed by the apparent significance he had gained in the mind of the other. His second heart sped up its erratic thumping, and it took several minutes for it to calm back down. Meanwhile, America moved to physically end the altercation between the nations. He had apparently had a conversation with Poland prior to the meeting, as his words were the perfect segue for the blond's research speech.

At the very beginning of Russia's quest to help America, all he had wanted was for the other nation to be so confident in his power that he no longer needed the approval of others. As it was, he had been successful, as now America was well on the way to becoming the imposing and dominant superpower he was meant to be. And yet, it felt wrong. The America that Russia had come to love wasn't so… mean.

Love? He shook his head, cursing the extra heart and its emotional vulnerability. Anyway, the America Russia had come to _like_ was no bully. He was reminded of Greece's words from earlier, that to allow America to continue on this path of taking without regard for others would be disastrous. Russia sighed, annoyed that his goal was now forced to change. But, he was wise enough to recognize his error and correct it accordingly.

America returned to his seat, allowing Poland to command the room's attention. All but two nations were focused on him. Russia was staring at America, admiring his tanned hands as they scrawled precise notes on his papers. In another corner of the room, Romano had drawn a ridiculous mustache and was busy positioning it in such a way that Germany appeared to have made a poor decision in regards to facial hair. While he snickered at his brilliance, Russia was deep in thought about his new plan to heal America.

* * *

After the conclusion of the less-than-productive meeting, Russia automatically returned with America to his home.

America coughed, seemingly nervous. "You know, it may be more practical if you just moved all of your stuff in here since you're over here so much."

"Really? You're not sick of me?"

"Of course not, otherwise I wouldn't suggest it."

"Oh… well, okay! I'll be right back!" Within twenty minutes, Russia had returned to America's home with his bags in tow, humming a happy tune while he deposited them in the only bedroom. "Does this mean we'll be sleeping together?" he asked innocently as he joined America in the living room.

"Sure. I feel more comfortable with you around. Perhaps my body likes being near my heart, or something."

"Or maybe you're just in love with me!"

America rolled his eyes. "Well, if that's the case it'd be rather convenient with our hearts in such close proximity."

Russia clutched his chest, "Ah! Is your perverse heart making advances on mine under my nose?"

"Don't be silly, that doesn't even make sense. Anyway, what would you like to do? I have some calls I need to make before bed, do you have any work?"

Russia checked his phone. He still had plenty of emails to compose and reports to send to his boss and other concerned parties back home, but he was more than capable of doing so while enjoying a few more episodes of his show. "Yeah, I have some stuff. But I've got my laptop and could stand to watch something."

America nodded. "Sounds good, I'll just turn the system on for you." He did just that while Russia sprawled out on the couch, setting his laptop up on his stomach while America ventured into the kitchen.

"Do you have any snacks? Or vodka?" he asked.

"I've got both, tons of leftover pasta and enchiladas. Oh, there's even ice cream in here!"

"I'll take it. Plus the vodka." America promptly returned to Russia's side, handing him three bottles of vodka and a carton of ice cream with a spoon.

"Have fun. I'll be upstairs if you need anything."

Russia nodded to America's retreating back. He quickly finished his emails—they were usually curt responses to specific questions from his boss. Since their last call, he was curious as to Russia's efforts in gaining America as an ally. He kept his report brief and didn't go into too much detail, as he was sure his boss would see Russia's possession of America's heart as a perfect chance for him to hurt the other nation.

He had just sent off his final email to Ukraine when the first episode of his binging session ended. Finished with his work, he replaced the laptop with the ice cream, happily digging into the still-frozen treat between sips of vodka. Having watched so much TV in the past few days, he was growing weary, so he eventually switched to a video game. America had an impressive collection, and he went with a title he recognized from recent reviews. He accidentally opened up America's saved game at first, and died within minutes of wandering, completely unaware of the imminent danger he faced in the form of wasteland monsters and not sure how to defend himself.

He promptly reset the system and started a new game, taking his time creating his character and learning the method of play. He had never been a huge fan of games, especially ones with such long and drawn out stories rather than a quick, arcade-like levels system, but he found himself so enthralled by the expansive landscape and twisted plot that he couldn't set the controller down. Despite his numerous deaths and screwed up conversation prompts—how was he to know the NPCs wouldn't take kindly to threats?—he made decent progress, coasting through the main quests as he downed the last of his vodka. After a particularly grueling boss fight where he'd been forced to betray those he called his friends, he yawned. A quick peak at his phone revealed the time to be well past midnight, and he was shocked that he'd managed to waste so many hours.

Stretching as he stood, he decided to visit America. He thought that maybe he'd already gone to bed, but on venturing upstairs he saw the office light still on. He stopped at the door, listening in while America's computer keys clacked away with fervor. Just as he raised his hand to knock, there was a soft buzz, the signature sound of a vibrating phone on a surface.

"Hello? …Ah, yes, I'm fine… Isn't it a bit early for this, director?" He chuckled. "Of course not, we're the world's leader in energy production, how could I be tired at this hour? Anyway, I'm assuming you're calling about the stuff from my outside source? …Don't worry about how I got him to give it up, it was all perfectly legal… But I intend to uphold my end of the bargain, so don't you dare touch those files you told me about yesterday… I don't care what your board of trustees says, you're the fucking director, and you report to me. This is my final word. I'll be by the office in a few weeks to make sure this report stays in our hands… alright…" Another chuckle. "I'm so glad she liked it. Did you tell her I was sorry I couldn't make her quincenara? …alright, thanks again. Tell your wife good luck with her bill… okay, goodbye."

Russia wasn't sure what was going on, but he knew that no amount of questioning the other would get him the answers he wanted. Just because they were friends now didn't mean they could disclose every matter of national security to the other. They still had bosses to attend to and certain agenda items that couldn't be so publicly broadcast.

He made his way back downstairs, losing himself once more in the game. He played for a few more hours, stopping only when he reached a particularly difficult quest. He grew bored of leveling up his character in preparation, so saved his progress and shut down the system for the night. He shuffled up to the bedroom, quietly at first; the light of Alfred's office revealed the location of his temporary bedmate, however, so he was less timid with his steps. He hastily changed into pajamas and got ready for bed before depositing himself unceremoniously on the large mattress.

The late hour and the alcohol both allowed him a quick entrance into deep sleep, his head full of undisturbed dreams that he'd never remember. Early in the morning he was awakened by the presence of another, and was only able to shoot America a half-hearted glare through the dark as the other shifted noisily. He huffed audibly once he finally settled.

"Sorry," he spoke softly. "There was a lot more to deal with than I thought there'd be."

"It's okay, you're just super loud is all," Russia added sarcastically.

"Can't argue with you there. Did you have a good night?" the younger nation rolled from his back to his side to face the other.

"Da, I had a great time playing _Fallout 4_. You have amusing games."

"Yeah, that's a good one. Have you played the other ones? The history of that universe is… well I guess it's a grim reminder of what our world could be like if… well, you know."

"If any of us declared nuclear war?"

"Yeah, that."

Russia hummed, turning also to face his friend. "It was interesting to see how the writers thought humans would act in such a world. Even without national ties they separated and fought. Humans are such silly creatures. What did your old boss say, 'a house divided cannot stand'?"

"Something like that."

"Then people should become one and strive for the common goal, don't you think? Rather than killing each other when their end goal is to save humanity."

"That's true. Of course, different groups are always held up by prejudices and barriers, and some people just don't have the same end goal, so uniting warring factions couldn't work. And that's when the bombs fall. It's a sad reality." He shifted, tucking his arm under a pillow. "A wise man noted, 'Look at the scorched earth and the bones that litter the wasteland. Millions... perhaps even billions, died because science outpaced man's restraint. They called it a "new frontier" and "pushing the envelope," completely disregarding the repercussions'."

"Who said that?"

"Elder Maxson of course. But, maybe you haven't gotten that far in the game. It is interesting to see, however, how technology has advanced while mankind and his ability to judge has stayed relatively constant ever since we've existed. They fight the same dumb wars but with much bigger toys. It's harder and harder for powers to shift without destroying entire cultures or lands with the push of a button. Of course, hindsight's 20/20… had I known how things would change after the Manhattan Project… well, who knows? Perhaps someone else would've discovered the power of those weapons later, someone with other motives.

"It's funny, we've got enough heat to blow this planet to uninhabitable bits, and yet we nations stay so cold. So passive with our threats and advances. We push lightly, treading so that we don't trigger the end for everyone, instead of working together. I've always been an individualistic nation, and that's who my people are as well. But I'm amazed when other more supposedly collectivist nations only extend their goals to their borders, and shun other nations with different views instead of embracing their perspectives alongside their own." He sighed. "I know I'm just rambling, now. I didn't mean to insult you personally either… I probably seem like an optimistic idiot right now."

Russia shrugged. "Though yesterday I teased you for your optimism, it is not a bad trait to have. Although I am a bit confused. Earlier you said you had a hard time trusting other nations because of their dishonest tendencies, and yet you wish for us all to get along? Are you optimistic, or pessimistic?"

"I guess… I have high hopes for what everyone else can bring to the table, but when I'm thrown into the equation, things get messed up. I want to be emotionally intimate with others and work alongside them, but I often find that others are reluctant to get as close as I would like. I am uncomfortable being without close relationships, but I sometimes worry that others don't value me as much as I value them. It's a messed up attachment style, I know. I get a bit paranoid because of it, and that doesn't help foster solid friendships or healthy cooperation."

Russia nodded. "I could see why that would make you anxious. I'm surprised that you lack confidence in your abilities to move others. Surely you've seen the power you have over others?"

"But is it only because of how strong I am? I'd rather persuade others with my words rather than with the unspoken threat of my fist."

"You can't forget your heart is a factor. Besides, even before you were a superpower, others recognized your conviction and admired it. Otherwise you wouldn't have been so supported while you fought for independence."

America was silent for a few moments. "Thanks for listening to me, and for the kind words. It's weird... when we're close like this, physically, that is, I feel... well, I just _feel,_ which is a big change from how I was earlier. I'm probably just the most inconsistent person ever right now. Wasn't it just a few hours ago I said I didn't care about anyone's opinion, and now it's what I crave? ...Anyway, we should probably get to sleep. We've got another early morning tomorrow."

Russia slid closer to America, receiving a warm welcome in the other's arm. Within minutes, the older nation was asleep again. Meanwhile, America traced lazy shapes on Ivan's back, begging for his mind to relax. Despite his best efforts, sleep evaded him. After an hour of laying wide awake, America snuck out of the bed, returning to his office to continue with his work. He was restless, and couldn't find peace until he took care of his business back home. Even without the living pillow, Russia slept well, though his second heart slowed its pace without its owner nearby. Apart from his heart, America once again grew harsh as he spoke with his boss and other national representatives. His body was chilled, and all his previous optimistic thoughts were dashed by the dull pulsing of his newfound pragmatic tendencies.

* * *

 **a/n: hello readers, and happy christmas to those who celebrate! i hope you all have had great holidays full of rest and love! i've sadly come down with some bug that's leaving me exhausted no matter how much sleep i get (or maybe it's just a permanent side effect of college idk idk). hope you enjoyed another chapter of ooc-ness. hopefully by ch 12/13 both ivan and alfred will be a bit more themselves and they can start with the romance! but, nothing's wrong with friendship first, right?**

 **much love to my reviewers! and to the guest reviewer, you're right! $$$~spoiler alert~$$$ it is fancy feast!**


	12. Chapter 12

Russia weaved through the crowd, narrowly avoiding a server bearing a tray laden with eclairs. The human was too busy restocking the treat to even apologize to the imposing nation, merely squeaking while he continued his journey. Russia only smiled and expelled a hurried "Excuse me," before straightening himself and heading toward his original target.

Across the room, a nation ordered his troops, assigning each cater waiter to a specific booth for the evening. His voice carried all the way to Russia's ears in a tone that was confident and firm. America had just sent a pair into battle, ordering them to man the open bar with utmost pride and valor—they were brave ones, that's for sure—when he turned and noticed the other.

He nodded, pausing only to sign a courier's sheet before the man wheeled his packages toward the kitchen. "Hey, Ivan, how are you? You're a bit early."

Ivan's smile hadn't faded ever since he had received America's heart. "I apologize. I wanted to see if you needed any help preparing for the party?"

"Thank you, but I have it under control, I think. It looks a bit chaotic right now, I'm sure, but in two hours, it'll be ready for everyone else."

"I can tell you put a lot of work into planning this."

"I wanted this conference to end on a high note. For once we were all able to come together and make some actual plans, so I think this is a worthy cause for celebration."

A waiter burst into the room from the kitchen, a familiar scent invading Ivan's nose. "Is that pirozhki I smell?"

"Yeah, I've got a bit of everything—signature dishes and drinks from all the countries in attendance. Of course, the most important lubricant for any social gathering is alcohol, so that will also be flowing. There'll be music and hopefully some dancing later as well. My only hope is that people don't get into any fights while it's going on."

"I'm sure it'll be fine. I always thought it was a bit unfair that the winner of the debate had to throw these things… you work hard only to end up working harder!"

"I don't mind it, actually. Planning a party can be stressful, but it's also pretty fun to get to see everything come together."

Russia nodded, then finally remembered something. "Oh yeah! So both of our flights are tomorrow morning, and I assume this gathering will persist rather late into the evening. Your heart has been thawing for several days now, and I was wondering if you'd like to try and have it put in you tonight?"

America's brows came together while he thought. "It may be a good idea. The only problem would be if doing so incapacitates me for the party. But, I think I'll be fine. I wasn't planning on leaving the building before the party, though…"

"It's no problem. I still have to go home and get ready, but I can meet you here a bit before it starts? The other nations won't be on time anyway."

"Sounds like a plan, I'll see you then," America turned and waved, immediately surrounded by a flustered florist and several chefs.

Russia had been quite bored for a few hours and so was disappointed that he couldn't help America in some way. Pouting, he trudged out of the conference center ballroom, shuffling his feet on his way back to his and America's home. Since he had moved in a few days ago, they had fallen into a comfortable pattern. They shared a bed as friends, and neither thought anything of it. Russia was so happy with the prospect of having such a good friend that nothing scandalous dared derail his purely innocent train of thought. America was far too busy with political business to see his bed partner as anything more than another source of heat, as when he finally retreated from the confines of his office to bed in the evenings, he didn't even have energy to dream of doing anything physical.

At the meetings they had sat together, up until small discussion groups were created. Italy had thought it brilliant to separate nations alphabetically based on their names in their official tongue without considering that not all nations present used the latin alphabet. Thus, Romanized names were used, and Rossiya was grouped with Romano, Polska, and la République du Congo. America—or the United States—was in a group with Turkey, Ukraïna, and Vietnam.

Russia was far less confrontational than usual, and he and Poland were able to put their past aside to work together on the presentation. Romano was his harsh self for a day, but after a while he warmed up the group and began making his own contributions, albeit with a healthy dusting of vulgarities. Congo Republic was less vocal, but he wasn't uncomfortable disagreeing when he wished to do so. By the time of their presentation, the group had grown surprisingly close despite the many differences between the quartet members.

Naturally, America was the loudest in his group, though this time his volume could be attributed more to his expertise and leadership rather than his usual obnoxious habit of shouting. While he helped facilitate discussion, he made sure not to dominate, and the group kept up their own healthy repertoire.

These groups weren't the only ones harmonious—Egypt, Hungary, Mexico, and Moldova were plenty amiable, though the groups that fell to yelling and brawling were more common. In some cases, silence was the killer of productivity, namely in the group containing Norway, Netherlands, New Zealand, and Nicaragua, who couldn't seem to converse for more than a minute at a time over the days spent together.

The presentations overall went quite well, despite a few bungles and name-calling between rivals. They worked late into the evening, several finding energy to go straight to the bars afterwards rather than to their beds. Russia continued his separation from America and joined his group members for a celebratory drink while the North American nation left for the comfort of his home alone.

"So, like, what's up with you and America?" a curious Poland had asked sometime after the group's fifth round of shots. The nations were far from intoxicated, all strong enough in their own rights to not fall prey to the liquid. Still, the loud music of the bar and the sight of drunk locals was enough of a placebo effect to embolden Poland.

"What do you mean?" Russia withdrew his personal vodka bottle to replenish everyone's shot glasses, shooting down a glare from an annoyed waitress with a civil smile.

"You guys are totally inseparable lately! And as far as I know, there hasn't been any more contact between your bosses or embassies as usual. If it's an alliance, I'm all for it, but like you have to make your intents known before other nations get suspicious!" He gratefully accepted the vodka, knocking back another shot and smacking his lips. "It sucks having to get bosses and politics involved in personal stuff, but as nations we have to be responsible."

Romano nodded, "Yeah, 'cause if you two bastards end up on bad terms the rest of us will have to deal with the fall-out… of the nuclear type, most likely."

Russia nursed his bottle "We are just friends, and we've come to a better understanding of what the other wants from the friendship. I don't foresee us having a falling out, and even if we do it wouldn't be nearly as bad as our last spat."

"You're really going to call the Cold War a 'spat'?" Congo rolled his eyes.

Russia waved a hand, "When you're as old as I, a 50 year war with an enemy half a world away isn't as substantial as my other battles."

"Yeah well it was pretty substantial to the rest of us," Poland glared. "And America's only been recognized for, what, just over 200 years? So for a quarter of his nationhood he's been ordered to hate you. It's a bit hard to get past that for a kid, don't you think?"

"He's a bit older than 200, though, he grew under the influence of many nations for centuries before his independence."

"Sure, but, like, it's the years when a country is on its own that really shapes their character. He'll have bits of English culture and others, but it's his pioneering spirit that totally defines him. And like I said, there was a long time when his spirit, like, detested you. It's great that you think this'll work out, I'm just worried he'll have a harder time, and then you'll totally get hurt too."

Russia blushed, hiding his embarrassment with a large drink. "Careful, Poland, I might think you actually care about me."

He pouted. "We're big nations here, Russia. When you're not trying to, like, totally squish us you're not that bad of a guy, totally not one who deserves to be hurt by a new friend." Romano nodded beside him, along with Congo.

Ivan could've cried, but didn't think that'd make a good impression with his new comrades, so he did the next best thing to convey love and gratitude: paying for everyone, himself included, to get piss drunk. It was a fantastic evening, and he was certain that his return to America's home at four in the morning would find him second in bed for the first time since their arrangement.

Alas, it was not to be, for when he stumbled up the stairs, giggling while he tripped over his coat, the ever-present light from the office was true to its name. Not hearing America on the phone, he barged in, graceful as only a drunken Russian could be.

America was rather skilled at observation, and it didn't take a super sleuth to know that Russia was sufficiently plastered. The scent alone was enough evidence, and he had been listening to the taller nation bumbling about downstairs for the past five minutes.

"Good evening, did you have fun?" he asked, glancing up from his laptop for a moment while Russia frowned.

"Of course. But why are you still working? Come to bed." Russia cleared away some papers from the desk, leaving enough space for his chest to lay as he leaned across toward America.

He sighed on seeing Ivan's expert begging eyes, noticing how tired he had become. His fingers rubbed at his eyes beneath his glasses, noting the clock at the bottom of his laptop. "Fine, I'll be there in a few minutes. This damn time difference makes working with people back home a lot harder." He gave a few more clicks before shutting his laptop. Russia was still pouting, so he pet him on the head while rising. "So, who succeeded in getting you so drunk?" he asked, leading the way to the room. Russia skipped happily behind him.

"Poland, Romano, and Congo! It was quite fun. Your group was there, too, and all your other friends. You should've come."

He smiled. "So it'd be alright for me to stay up late drinking but not working?"

"Obviously!"

"I wasn't in the mood, plus all this work. And since Canada wanted to go out with his current boyfriend I didn't have him helping when I was talking with his boss." He slid into bed, having already changed into his pajamas when he started working.

"Usually we aren't supposed to work on stuff back home during these conferences. It gives us time to strengthen bonds while our bosses handle things on their own."

"I know, but I'm not a fan of wasting time doing nothing. Plus it's hard work getting my bosses and advisers to agree on things, so I need to get as much of a head start as I can before I get back in a week."

"A week? Aren't you going back after this is over?" Russia hopped into bed, immediately pulling the blankets to himself. America didn't mind, and merely settled further into his pillow.

"Ah, well, it's silly. I booked a trip before all this happened, and I wouldn't want to waste it."

"I see. Hopefully it's not a work trip?"

"Nope, all for fun. Matthew will be there, along with Iceland I think. If you're not too busy, you should come."

"I can't. Next week will be quite busy in my place. But thank you."

"Sure thing. Now, let's get to bed. Though I assume tomorrow morning won't be a fun time for you."

He turned out to be right, but Russia wasn't the only nation at the meeting who seemed to be struggling with a hangover. Poland was dragged in by an annoyed Lithuania a few minutes after nine—the only reason the latter country wasn't so grumpy was that he woke up still tipsy. England and France were also late, and while France seemed well-put-together, everyone could tell England looked nauseated. Russia and America had stopped at the younger nation's usual breakfast places, so Russia had both a cup of strong coffee and orange juice to help combat his sickness.

America was very helpful, feeding him cheesy carbs and surreptitiously pouring the contents of his hidden flask into Russia's coffee. He smiled at the new taste, the minty alcohol enhancing his morning coffee immensely.

"Irish coffee—works every time," was his only explanation.

Ignoring his fellow nation's hangovers—Germany himself was perfectly healthy—Germany commenced the third to last conference day, the beginning of the debates. Each nation took the first half of the day to compile their primary areas of interest in order to match up pairs. While some weren't ready until lunch due to their headaches, everyone was sorted properly. Lunch was to be spent compiling arguments before the first round, though both America and Russia were confident in their preparation so spent the break eating and going on a short walk rather than stressing over notes.

Over the next few days, numerous debates were held. By the last day, it was by unanimous decision that America had wowed the other nations the most in his verbal bouts. The only nation who came close to beating him was Sweden, though both of them fell into a rather scary staring contest instead of using their words near the end. America shocked everyone when an orange aura spread around him, causing Finland to squeak out in surprise. This of course threw off Sweden, who broke from America's gaze and thus was declared the loser.

As the winner, America was to be the financial backer for the closing reception to occur in a few hours' time. He had spent all of that day and most of the day before calling in chefs and entertainers for the festivities, and had once again missed out on a companionable night at the bars. Despite his absence, Russia had been plenty comfortable socializing on his own and seemed to be on good terms with a few of his older friends. Not one person had run from him all night, which made his hearts glow.

He lounged in the empty home for an hour before changing into his outfit. It wasn't anything too formal, just a simple tailored navy suit. He wore a red skinny tie over a white shirt. The final touch was his usual scarf, and once nestled around his neck, he deemed himself ready to go.

It took him a few minutes to track down America in the transformed ballroom. The lights were much dimmer, with food tables and seating scattered throughout. He finally spotted him speaking with the DJ near the source of the lights and approached him.

The ballroom wasn't the only one who had been changed: America was now dressed in a stylish white suit with a plaid button up beneath. It was a flashy outfit that would've seemed outlandish on most, but America carried himself well in it. He smiled on seeing Russia, his teeth somehow managing to outshine his bleached suit.

"Alright, Gustav, I'm off. Keep it modern, keep it worldly, keep it classic. You got it," he nodded to the DJ who nodded back, adjusting something on his table before testing out the volume. America turned to Russia. "Here, I have a private room just through here," he led the other out of the ballroom's back door and a short way down the hall, turning into a small room that was empty save for a table cramped with papers, some chairs, and empty boxes.

"What is this?" Russia asked.

"Mission control, of course. I needed a quiet place for planning that was close to the actual set-up. Alright," he inhaled deeply. "It's now or never." He shrugged out of his coat, then started unbuttoning his shirt. "Maybe it wasn't the best idea to wear white," he chuckled.

Meanwhile, Russia had opened his suit and shirt, revealing a pale, scarred chest. He thrust his hand into his cavity, removing the second heart without a problem. His own heart shuddered at the absence of its new companion, but he didn't feel too different. He held it out toward America. "Do you want me to do it, or will you?"

"If you can do it, I'll let you." And so, just as he had taken America's heart from him, so Russia gave it back. The organ, now living and beating as a heart should, was accepted by the body with little resistance. Despite the ease of entry, America crumpled over, days of emotions catching up to him at once. While Russia fell into a comfortable content state, America's states were more ephemeral. The emotions themselves weren't such a bother, but rather the quick shifting is what distressed him. He caught himself on his knees, but amid heavy breathing he leaned forward. Russia himself was starting to feel a bit woozy, so he slumped down next to his friend. While America took in deep breaths on all fours, Russia leaned against the wall, eyeing the legs and back of the now shirtless blond. He felt slightly delirious, so didn't think it inappropriate the way he absentmindedly admired the view. He brought his hand to his neck, loosening his scarf as his body seemed to have grown warmer in the last minute.

"How are you, Alfred?" his voice sounded off to him.

"Feel like shit. There's all this happiness in my heart, but I know it's not mine. It's… weird." He coughed several times. On pulling his hand away, Ivan noticed a speckling of red which America was quick to wipe on the carpet. "What about you? Now that you're down to just one heart?"

"I… feel weird as well. The last week I felt very temperamental, the smallest thing affected me. But I'm feeling normal apart from a shortness of breath. And I'm warm."

"Me too," he admitted. "Which is a nice change for me, I've been pretty chilly without my heart." He turned his head toward Russia, gracing him with a smile. The expression only lasted a second however, as when their eyes met, America's face turned to one of pain.

"Alfred!" Russia called out, leaning forward to place a hand on Alfred's back. The other's face was red. "Are you okay?"

He laughed nervously, brushing aside Russia's hand gently. "Of course, dude! I'm great! Um… listen, I have to get back to the ballroom, last second planning, you know?"

"Of course, shall I come with you? Will you be okay?"

America hopped to his feet, his laugh loud in the empty room. "Nah, don't worry about it. I'll take care of everything, you just get to enjoy my work in half an hour, okay? Gosh, is it hot in here or what?" His face was indeed still extremely red as he put his clothes back on through his ramblings. Russia wasn't sure what to make of the other's odd behavior, instead focusing on righting his own attire.

"Very well, I will let you go. But if you need anything during the party, please let me know, Alfred." He reached out his hand, placing it against Alfred's flushed cheek. This did not yield the desired result of providing the other comfort, however, as Alfred flinched away from the touch.

Yet another nervous laugh and then a hurried "Sure thing, see you later, man!" were all that he left the Russian before sprinting out of the room.

 _That was odd_ , he thought, following after the other at a much slower pace. He wandered the hallways for a few minutes, letting his body and mind adjust to his new state. His temperature wouldn't decrease until he stopped dwelling on the look of America from behind, so he instead occupied his thoughts with the upcoming party. America was clearly uncomfortable being near him at the moment, so he decided that he'd keep his distance. However, should the need arise he'd be sure to keep America comfortable. It wouldn't be good for his heart if another nation acted out at the party, and thus Ivan decided that he would keep order at the party no matter what.

* * *

The nations were filing into the ballroom, finding seats next to their friends. They had been instructed to eat a light dinner beforehand, as only hors-d'oeurves would be served. On filling a table, waiters came out from the kitchens to bestow each nation with a full flute of champagne, with instructions not to tuck into the drinks immediately. Unfortunately, some nations seemed hard of hearing, and the waiters were forced to make several return trips to refill the glasses.

Ivan sat with his sisters, Lithuania, Poland, China, and Congo. America was nowhere to be seen, but Ivan assumed the host nation was busy with preparations even then, five minutes after the event was to start. As expected, several nations were late and the festivities weren't to begin until all were in attendance. Finally, the seats were filled with the nations who had been present for the conference, though on closer inspection, Russia noticed some extras. Some nations hadn't been able to attend the conference due to ongoing conflict in their homes or lack of funding, but several of the missing nations had been extended an invitation to the closing ceremony. It was a bold move on America's part, he thought, and most of the newcomers, weaker nations far below the gaze of the G8 or even G20, kept to themselves, struggling to hide their awe at the splendor around them.

The lights in the room dimmed, till only a single spotlight remained, focused on the stage. A rap song blasted through the speakers, one very popular among the youth of many nations. The intro lead into the first verse, but instead of the usual lyrics, a clear voice cut through the beat.

"Good evening to all my fellow nations!" the room applauded politely while America made his way to the podium. "Thank you, thank you," he beamed, waiting for the cheers to die down. He cleared his throat. "Now, I know a lot of you have been a bit concerned for me lately." He switched into a perfect British accent. "Listen you American idiot, quit trying to force your dumb ideas on us when your nation's falling apart!"

Arthur called out, "The first good point I've heard from you in years!" Several nearby nations chuckled, and America smiled.

"Always charming. Or, how about, 'Alfred, how can you call yourself a developed nation when you have shootings all over your homeland, eh?'" His voice was shockingly similar to Canada's. "Well, while you all seem to have a lot of fun bullying me over social media or during summits, I for one can't stand for this any longer. I got to thinking, damn, these bitches really tryna step to me right now. Like actually! But, hopefully this summit has proved to y'all that this train of thought is unwise for you to continue on." The music started up again, and America shoved the podium aside. He unbuttoned his blazer, holding his mic close to his mouth. "Oh man, oh man, oh man, not again…" he started his rap.

"Yeah, I learned the game from G. Washington  
You can never check me  
Back to back for the nations that won't and have never won  
Back to back like I'm spraying from my machine gun  
Back to back son I'm talking World Wars Two _and_ One  
Whoa, very important and very pretentious  
When I look back I might be mad that I gave this attention  
Yeah, but it's weighin' heavy on my conscience,  
Yeah, and fuck, y'all left U.S. no options  
I wanna see my nations go insane  
You gon make me fly out of my fucking borders  
You gon make me clean up your mess, you hoarders  
You gon make me fuckin go all out of order  
Been at the top for so long, where y'all at?  
You on my back whether I'm red or democrat  
I'm not sure what it was that really made y'all mad  
But know I ain't leaving you soon I ain't no deadbeat dad  
I mean woah, can't fool our people, man, they know what's up  
Ever since the one-seven-seven-six breakup  
This is for y'all that think I shouldn't be in first  
You just mad I'm peaking when you're submersed  
You tax me then we gotta go to war for it  
Is that mine or is it counterfeit?  
I know that you gotta hate me for the boss  
But now I'm put on trial like Stations of the Cross  
Yeah, trigger fingers turn to twitter fingers  
Yeah, you getting' bodied by a singin' nation  
I'm not the type of nation that'll type to nations  
And shout-out to all my businesses supporting nations  
Make sure to hit them with the pre-nup  
Then tell that land to ease up  
I won another one, I won another one  
You still ain't done shit about the other one  
I got Barack with me goin' back to back  
Yeah, goin' back to back  
I got Barack with me goin' back to back  
Yeah, I'm goin' back to back  
I don't wanna hear your slurs ever again  
Not even when I'm further on my upward trend  
Not even when I'm up above y'all, transcend  
I been lettin' your people in, it's a sell-out event  
Oh, they need better homelands  
I didn't wanna do it, it's time you catch these hands  
The point I'm tryna make is true-blooded American  
Seen what I'd do for liberty along with freedom?  
Please, check 'em for a wire or a earpiece  
Please, these nations they can never get near me  
Please, think before you come for the great one  
Please, who's a superpower and who ain't one?  
Please, somebody stop me  
I'm preachin' truth here and gettin' crazy  
I got the host job next year and it'll be my summit  
Soon as this nation hit the stage they gon'  
They gon' ask if I can win the summit back to back  
Yeah, I'll win it back to back  
They gon' ask if I can win the summit back to back  
I took a break from the stage, now it's back to that,  
One!"

During his performance, a number of back-up dancers appeared, along with moving backgrounds and stage pieces. He danced through the scenes, rapping his parody confidently. On concluding, he hit one last dance move and froze, dropping the mic with a smirk.

It was a lively opening act, and the nations were delighted. Usually closing ceremonies were dull dinners with some music, but it appeared that America had planned quite the show for them. It came as no surprise since the nation was so well known for his extravagant award shows and entertainment industry. He retreated with the dancers, returning within thirty seconds in a completely new outfit and, surprisingly, a long wig.

His new look was met with several wolf-whistles and cat calls. He grinned and waved, showing no shame in his body-baring dress. He had borrowed it (and had had it taken out, of course) from Miss USA and was radiant in the sparkly red, white, and blue cocktail dress complete with a tutu. Atop his curly blond wig sat the Miss Universe crown—on seeing it Philippines threw a fit. When the cat-calls finally died down, he spoke into a bedazzled microphone.

"What a great performance by Drake, huh guys? Even though he's from our northern neighbors, we in the U.S. consider him our own golden boy, so thanks for him, Matthew!" The usually quiet nation flipped America the bird at the remark, though he was grinning. "Now, Miss U.S.A. unfortunately wasn't able to come today, but they don't call me 'America the Beautiful' for nothing, ain't that right?" His voice had shifted into a southern twang, an accent that to many nations was an aural aphrodisiac. "Now, we've had our fun, but we must remember the point of this summit. Our world is fraught with problems, and in coming together, we are better equipped to solve them. Over the past two weeks, one issue in particular really rooted itself in my heart.

"Each day I entered that conference room and within minutes, there it was, staring me right in the face. For many years—centuries, even—it's plagued us. And yet, very little has been done to rectify it. Only one nation here has consistently identified this problem as such, but his passion often blinds us to the truth of his words." He held out his arm toward the crowd, a spotlight directed on a baffled nation. "France," he continued. "My dear friend. Your sentiments betray you, but I'll ask anyway: surely your heart is overwhelmed by this issue?"

"Uh… of course! It's… quite a problem…. Uh, but maybe you should explain it to the audience just so we're all on the same page, mon cher," he laughed; obviously he had no idea what was going on either.

America nodded. "Wise words from a war-battered nation. Very well. The problem of which I speak… it is one that I think we should pay great attention to tonight. We may mourn, but we must also look to the future. We must plan the best course of action to rid the world of this blight." A projected image appeared behind him, large numbers counting down from ten. "I warn you, the content of these images may not be safe for children's eyes. If you're squeamish, I would ask you to excuse yourself." A few nations fidgeted in their seats, but to their credit, no one left. As the timer wound down, a new image replaced the counter.

A black, blurry blob dominated the screen. America appeared close to fainting. As the image focused and became sharper, several nations gasped on realizing what it was. Then, roaring laughter.

"You fucking git! Can't you grow up?!" England shouted over the guffaws, staring at the extremely zoomed-in image of his eyebrows. In the corner of the image, a live shot of his reacting eyebrows was displayed, which only lead to heartier bellows of amusement.

America maintained his serious guise. "Friends! I know you are stricken with horror and grief! How could we have let the situation escalate to this, you may ask." Several large men appeared next to England, carrying the protesting nation up the stage, the short nation swearing all the way.

"Let me go, wankers! Alf—I mean, U.S.! What is the meaning of this!" America rolled a chair out onto the stage, securing England in it with several leather straps on the arm.

"It hurts me to see you like this, England. But don't worry. We are here to help you," he reached into his cleavage, withdrawing a pair of silver tweezers. They glinted in the spotlight, and England was shaking in his seat.

"Are you seriously gonna rip out my bloody eyebrows?!" he could barely be heard over everyone's giggles as America neared him. The superpower placed himself between England and the crowd before a puff of pink smoke surrounded them. As soon as it cleared, the pair were missing. With Act Two complete, everyone clapped, many still convulsing with laughter at the scene.

England was safely returned to his seat, his eyebrows safe and sound. He crossed his arms and sipped at his tea, ignoring the barbs from his tablemates, though his face was still a slight shade of pink.

Backstage, America changed once again. The spotlight targeted a corner near the back of the room, and America was there, attached to a wire system to make it look like he was flying through the air. He zoomed over their heads, his cape fluttering behind him. They clapped as he landed on the stage, striking a heroic pose.

"Alright, so now that the hero here has dealt with England's facial atrocity, it's time for awards! I couldn't be the only winner at the summit, although let's not forget that I did, in fact, win." His quip was met with several chuckles and eye-rolls. "I wanted to thank everyone for filling out the surveys I sent out earlier. I know it was very last second, but we had near perfect participation! All but one of you replied, and it means a lot. For the one nation who didn't respond, you are the receiver of our first award: congrats to Russia! Please accept the "Thanks for Nothing", award!"

Russia blushed when the spotlight landed on him. He stood to make his way toward the stage, but before he could get far, Amercia had flown to his side, picking him up bridal style like a damsel in distress. Back on stage, he was awarded a sash as well as the microphone.

"Ah, thank you Alfred! I apologize for not responding to your survey. I did not receive the email… I pride myself on prompt responses and organization."

"Did you not get it? Do you still use 'motherrussia1da at gmail'?"

"Da, but if you used your 'americafuckyeah' account, it may have been sent to spam," he smiled.

America sighed. "Well, that explains it then! Anyway, since you're here, would you like to help me with the other awards?"

"Of course!"

"Great! Next we have the award for the 'Best Napping Face'. The four nominees as voted for by everyone but Russia, if you please…" America looked to the sound booth expectantly. Behind him were four large images of nations caught in compromising positions. First was Greece, the perpetual snoozer. He was slumped back in his seat, a small kitten licking at his drool. Just as with England, the camera panned toward the nation; his current position nearly mirrored that of the image from a few days previous, though he wore a suit instead of a t-shirt and there was no kitten in sight. Next was Italy. His was a short video: a sleepy Italy fell forward, banging his forehead on the table before bouncing back, still asleep the whole time. The camera showed a waving Italy next to an embarrassed Germany. The other two nominees were selected for their cuteness factor, and Liechtenstein narrowly beat out Seychelles for the honor. America flew to retrieve her, but Switzerland wouldn't let him lay a hand on her. Instead, she was handed her sash as well as a large print of her image—her brother was quick to snatch that from America—and the show continued.

Russia and America went through the awards, both in happy spirits. The pair kept up a hearty banter, so quick that the other nations thought the repertoire rehearsed. They joked, often at the other's expense, but it was all in good fun. Even when Russia withdrew his pipe, it was clearly in jest. Everyone smiled at the couple, remembering a certain question from the survey as the two exchanged witticisms.

Russia's small group won the award for "Team Chemistry"; South Sudan clinched "Rookie of the Year" in her first appearance at an international summit; America won the title of "Most Improved" as well as "Outfits on Fleek"; "Most Colorful Language" went to Romano; "Nation I'd Really Want to Bone" was claimed by Canada; Belarus was quite happy with her sash that read "Most Likely to Win an Award so That They Don't Murder Us All"; naturally, Prussia received "Most Awesome Nation" (though there may have been some hacking of the system seeing as he got more votes than there were nations present); the sole committee formed won a record three awards: "Best Committee", "Worst Committee", and "Only Committee"; every vote for the category "Best At Putting Up With Our Annoying Behavior" went to Germany, who cracked a small smile at the award; there were many more silly awards as well as a few more serious ones, and all were well-deserved.

Finally, the award for "Greatest Alliance" came. Russia had somehow lost the envelope naming the winner, so they had the crowd choose from the four couples shown on the screen: America and Canada, Russia and America, England and France, and Poland and Lithuania. The cheers were equally loud for all four options—America chided his fellow nations for not understanding the intricacies of the democratic process—so in the end, Russia declared the co-hosts the winner of the award. They bestowed the sashes on each other, and thus concluded the third act. As the lights faded and the curtains were drawn, Russia wrapped America in an embrace.

In the darkness, America blushed.

Ivan spoke over the clapping. "We make a good team, da?"

"Y-yeah… we do," America's voice was quiet even though the pair were close. Suddenly, he pushed away from Russia. "I have to change and do the toast! Um, sorry!" And he was gone, leaving Russia alone while he rushed back on stage.

Russia frowned, missing the warmth of America's body and smile. He didn't even rejoin his table in time for America's toast, though he made sure to chug his champagne when he returned. The show was complete, and it was time for the party to begin. The stage was lowered, creating an ideal dancing space near a lively DJ mixing many pop and hip-hop songs popular in America and thus across the world. Most nations got to their feet, some went to the dance floor, some to the food, though a majority went to the bar. Russia and Ukraine grabbed two vodka martinis each, though neither was a fan of vermouth, so their definition of a martini was actually just vodka in a cocktail glass with an olive. They sat at a table nearer to the bar, waiting for the debauchery to unfold.

It only took two hours for nations to become wasted, and by this time most had migrated to the dance floor. The party lights were bright, but there was still enough privacy that couples had no qualms about groping one another while they danced. America was tipsy, but he'd sworn not to get too drunk since he was in charge. However, he had been convinced—rather easily, Poland noted—to change into his mini-dress (sans wig and crown; the crown was being torn between Columbia and Philippines while the wig was being worn by a bubbly Italian) from earlier and was busy showing others the trendy dance moves in his place.

Russia enjoyed watching everyone bumbling about and laughing, though he preferred to stay seated rather than join in. Others weren't as afraid to approach him after seeing his newfound attitude, and he conversed openly with many. He was tapping his foot to the beat of a rather fast song when he caught Alfred's eye. The blond only smiled and waved, then performed an odd dance move where he punched the air in front of him while leaning to the side.

Ivan was happy with the company he'd received, but he craved an interaction with the American. Their time on stage had been pleasant, though it was admittedly shallow. As he watched America dancing with his brother and friends, he could see the difference that his heart was making clearly on his face. His smiles reached his eyes, his laughs caused his whole body to shake, his pouts started in his eyebrows and traveled all the way down to a stomped foot. He seemed whole, and with the entirety of his being he was vivacious in his celebration. Ivan couldn't stop his smile.

His America had returned.

* * *

 **A/N: i kinda hated how silly this got, but then i remembered, hetalia is at its core silly! so, i didn't worry about it too much. also s/o to me spoofing "Back to Back", haha. it was an unnecessary way to spend my time since it doesn't contribute to the story at all but whatevs. i was very inspired by neil patrick harris when writing this, if you didn't notice, maybe some corny collins. anyway, hope you enjoyed! thanks to my reviewers, especially those who review for multiple chapters! i'm happy you're sticking with me! my school's football team is playing in a bowl game in a few days and i splurged on tickets, so i'll be travelling starting tomorrow and won't be back till after the new year. of course, as a youngster i will have my laptop on me but the person i'm staying with doesnt have wifi :'( so i'm not sure if i'll get ch 13 out soon or what, but i'll try my best! #goirish**

 **much love ~spicy**


	13. Chapter 13

It has been said that a Nation Party is the best type of party because a Nation Party doesn't stop—or rather, the nations themselves don't know _how_ to stop. While hosting these functions can be rewarding in its own way, the added fees for extended venue rentals, trucks full of extra alcohol being delivered at three in the morning, property damage, and numerous noise complaints can be a burden for less well-off nations. As it was, America had no problem dealing with all the strains on his wallet, and so left the conference center at six AM with a smile on his face. The disgruntled caterers and cleaning staff were less happy, but the promise of a large bonus during a relatively un-busy catering season kept their mouths shut.

By the time he had ushered even the drunkest of nations (England won the final award by a landslide, though his sash didn't do much to cover up his nearly nude body—why he even packs his apron anymore is a mystery to all), America had sobered up from his handful of drinks and was clear of head enough to enjoy the sunrise on his walk home. It was a relief getting out of the building and into the fresh air, no longer being surrounded by alcohol fumes was key for curing his slight hangover.

Back in his home, he packed his things quietly, not wishing to awake the sleeping bear upstairs, though he was allowed to make some noise since Russia's loud snores drowned almost everything else out. They hadn't interacted much during the party outside of the award portion, and America would be loathe to admit that he had avoided the other intentionally. It was easy when they were hamming it up on stage to hide his discomfort, but he never sought out his inebriated friend for fear of what may happen.

He shook his head of the thought, finally finished packing up all his tech and work supplies before entering the bedroom. He slipped unnoticed into the closet, throwing all his clothes into his large suitcase with little concern for folding. He gathered all his toiletries and tossed them in the bag and hefted the bulky item to the door. A text alerted him that his ride to the airport had arrived, and he left. Before he locked the door, he argued with himself, clutching at the doorknob for several seconds.

He would never call his leaving without saying goodbye to Russia an act of cowardice, but rather one of self-preservation. On his way to the airport, he did send a quick text with an apology and a goodbye before placing a call.

After a few rings, his brother answered. "Hey Mattie!" America shouted.

Matthew groaned. "Jesus, Al, what do you want?"

"Just letting you know I'll be on my plane to our island getaway soon!"

There was a grumbling on Matt's end, though it wasn't his brother.

"Dude! Are you with someone right now?" America blushed.

"You can't see me but I'm rolling my eyes. Grow up, Al, don't act like you and Russia haven't been spending every night together."

"Hey! We're not… doing things!"

"Sex, Al, it's called sex."

"Whatever! We're just friends!" He sighed. "Anyway, when's your flight? And have you heard from Iceland? Is he coming?"

"I think so. Feliks and Juan may be there too."

"Awesome! But I thought Juan was too butt-hurt about us not picking Cancun for our kick-ass spring break trip?"

"Guess he changed his mind."

America groaned. "Dude, this trip is a total sausage fest now!"

"I didn't think you'd mind."

"Gross, you're all my friends! Whatever, I'll just be working on my tan anyway. And I have tons of stuff to take care of for my boss."

"Isn't this your vacation?"

"Well, yeah, but I've already been away so long, and since all this stuff is my idea it'd be rude of me to have my aids do all the work."

"There's only so much you can do… you can't personally pass any bills you know. You aren't even supposed to exist so you can't campaign either."

He waved his hand, though his brother couldn't see the action. "No worries, I've got my ways that are perfectly legal, thank you very much. Anyway, you didn't answer me when your flight will be!"

"It's at two-twenty. I was planning to sleep till noon," he mumbled.

"Fine fine, I'll let you go. Say hello to Prussia or Netherlands or France or whoever it is this time."

"Hold the judgment, Al."

"I swear I'm not judging! Alright, I've gotta get on my plane now. I'm supposed to be the first to arrive, so I'll take care of check-in and finding the best parties for the night! See ya, bro!" He ended the call without waiting for a response then left the car. His chauffeur had pulled up next to his private plane and proceeded to transfer the bags. Alfred sent a few texts to those who would be joining him the address of their hotel and all other info they'd need to keep in touch once they arrived. He boarded the plane and they took off within minutes. He was settled into his spacious seat and was far from tired despite his lack of sleep. So, using the plane's phone and Wi-Fi, he got right back to work, chatting with his many congressional contacts and their aides—none knew who he was, of course, they figured he was just some rich, spoiled intern who whispered in the President's ear, and none had ever met him or seen his face; after all, it'd be hard to explain to some of them how he was the same youthful man who'd dealt with their grandparents in years past. He hadn't been as active in things as he had been the past few days, and they were wary of his motives. But, his propositions served their own interests well, so many were more than happy to take his ideas into consideration, especially since they'd end up getting credit for the bills.

It wasn't easy for a personification to implement changes all at once. Certainly they were powerful at rousing the emotions of their people, but for nations such as America, emotions and popular support weren't enough. He needed people in power on his side, which is why he was trying to strengthen his ties to senators and congressmen whose votes would be his saving grace. Long ago he was a member of his Presidents' cabinets and could directly advise and contribute. However, like the other nations he was forced to retreat into obscurity during his land's witch hunt craze—his eternal youth made the humans paranoid, so now his existence was only revealed to his bosses and select secretaries. The state governors also knew about him, though they tended to interact with the state personifications instead of him. Speaking of them, he decided to call up a few of them, namely the swing states. He'd certainly need a boss who agreed with him if he wanted to get anything done, and at the very least he could gauge the probability of success in the upcoming election by talking to the states.

He prided himself on being a democratic nation, so he was initially hesitant to involve himself in elections and bills; he wasn't sure if it was right for him to exercise such control. But, he knew that his voice was that of the people. Even though his various groups disagreed on just about every policy, there were certain core values that he could always get behind and that everyone else would agree to. As a young nation, it was usually the youth of the nation that he represented, so with each generation he tended to be at odds with what was the norm. He'd often get in fights with his boss, no matter what party he declared. One decade Alfred would be a blue-blooded patriot, convinced that bigger better bombs were the only option, then the next presidential cycle he'd yearn for the left-leaning policies of his European brethren. There were some presidencies where his views actually aligned with that of his boss, and that was when he was best able to work his magic.

As his plane descended, America had completely forgotten about his troubles with Russia. He shut his laptop and collected his things, climbing the stairs to the tarmac. Dominican Republic was near a black car to greet him, and America was happy to see his old friend who had been too busy to attend the conference. They chatted for the short drive to the hotel, where after Alfred was left alone once again—he wasn't surprised, though, since Dominican Republic was very busy dealing with the influx of tourists and the affect this had on the economy, transportation, and the environment.

Once checked into his hotel, America finally let himself rest. He refused to turn on his work phone, instead activating his temporary local phone. He had one for everyone, as it would be a disaster if one of his fellow nations somehow got lost during their trip. Neither their bosses nor Dominican Republic would appreciate the scandal that would cause. He amused himself with some Tetris on his phone, letting the familiar, jaunty tune lull him to sleep for a few hours.

* * *

Several days had passed since the conference's close, and Russia was miserable. He was back home and, like he had told America, he was swamped. _Perhaps the younger nation had been smart to keep caught up during the conference_ , Russia thought with a groan. And apart from a goodbye text from Alfred, he hadn't even heard from his friend. Sure, he had other nations to talk to: Ukraine was allowed to visit him these days, and even Poland and Lithuania came over for an informal dinner. His boss commended his newly acquired friendships and encouraged Russia to pursue them further, especially with America, and yet he didn't feel as happy as he'd felt the week before, and he knew it wasn't just because he was back to only one heart.

He missed America's stupid jokes, his loud laugh, his silly smile. He missed holding the other nation and comforting him and even the slightly insane shouts when he was angry. He finally found out that the vacation Alfred had been talking about was his juvenile Spring Break, and he knew the teen was enjoying the company of young collegiate men and women as well as some younger nations. Surely America would come to realize that he was better suited for nations not so rooted in history as Russia? What could an old man offer one who could have anyone and anything?

He was in a mood, and his boss knew to avoid him. Thus, Russia found himself forced to take a day off. He had been in contact with Congo Republic, and so decided to visit him to kill a few hours.

The other nation was wise enough to read Russia's expression and know something was wrong. He served his guest a pleasant lunch and they toured the capital city, as Russia had never seen it for himself. Finally, Congo asked him why he was so sad.

Russia sighed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be a dull companion. I'm just upset. America hasn't been in contact with me, and after all that he had said during the conference, I thought we were well past the silent treatment. I know he's on vacation, so I want him to have fun and relax, but I also wouldn't mind talking to him. Then again, he's with all his fun friends, so he doesn't need an old man checking up on him. I don't wanna bother him."

Congo nodded, pitying the forlorn look on his friend's face; he'd almost admit that Russia looked cute at the moment. "It's okay for you to feel insecure; you guys just started this new friendship, and with memories of your past relations, it'll be tough! But, I'm sure he'll call you in a week. He probably wanted to shut off his normal phone since he's on vacation. That's what I usually do. Do you wanna try to talk to him, still?"

Russia shrugged, which Congo knew meant "yes". The African nation pulled out his own phone and called his friend, Morocco. He knew that Morocco and America had been friends for a long time, so he'd probably be able to figure out how to get a hold of him. Morocco connected him to America's aids, who connected him to Canada's aids, who connected him to Cuba's aids, then Cuba himself. Finally, he was talking with Dominican Republic who knew the hotel where America was staying. After a few minutes on hold, he finally reached the young nation's hotel room. Instead of America, however, it was Mexico who answered.

"Hola?"

"Hello, this is Congo Republic. I was wondering if the U.S. was around."

"Nope, that idiota has been in his embassy all day! For such a lazy country, I thought he'd be good at this whole vacation thing. I told them if they'd have come to Cancun we'd have a much better Spring Break! Anyway, I can give you his local cell phone number, or if it's important you could call the embassy."

"Both would be great, thanks." Mexico gave him the two numbers, which Congo was more than able to memorize.

"Alright. Thanks a lot, Mexico!"

"Oh, is that Juan?" Russia asked. Congo handed the other his phone.

"Privet, Juan!"

"Ivan! How's it hanging?"

"Great! I was visiting Congo and he was kind enough to help me with contacting America. I'm worried about the idiot."

Mexico laughed. "Well don't be too worried! He's far from getting into trouble with drinking and women, I think he's had about two drinks total this week! What a wet blanket. He's usually the functional alcoholic! His university students have taught his liver well. Maybe you can persuade him to get out of his mood and have some fun when you talk to him."

"Mood? Is he upset?"

"Hardly, but the boy is manic. He's always working, but he seems pretty happy about it so things must be going well. Hardly has time to talk to anyone, though. A bit rude since he invited us, but hey, he and Domingo are footing the bill so I can't complain too much!"

"Are the rest of you having fun despite his absence?"

"Oh of course, America sure knows how to spend money. Spa treatments, private parties, open bars, loose American women… it's a dream come true! Not as good as Cancun, of course!"

"Obviously."

"Alright, well I've gotta get going to this rooftop party! It was good to hear from you, keep in touch, amigo!"

Russia smiled. "Will do. Goodbye, Juan."

Their conversation over, Russia thanked Congo and returned his phone to him. Congo recited America's new numbers to Russia, and he entered them into his phone.

Congo had a dinner to attend with his boss, so Russia was left alone for the rest of the day. He paced his hotel room, unexpectedly nervous to even place the call. He finally said "fuck it" and hit send, waiting several tense seconds for the other to pick up.

"Hello?" America's familiar voice answered.

"Alfred!" Russia practically shouted, much to his embarrassment.

"Ivan? Oh hey! How are you?"

"I am well. My boss made me take the day off so I'm visiting Congo Republic. How is your trip?"

"It's pretty good so far. I honestly haven't spent a lot of time with the guys. I went out the first night, but there was so much going on and my head was too full of ideas to let loose too much. College kids these days are crazy! I'm getting too old for this shit."

Russia chuckled. "Well, if you are too old then I am a fossil."

"Aw, you're not that old. At least you can still hang with the best of us! I saw you dancing near the end of the party. Anyway, did you need something?"

"What?"

"Er, sorry. Like, can I help you? Since you're calling and all."

"Ah, nyet, I just wanted to say hello. As a friend."

There was a slight pause. "Right, well that's nice of you, dude! I'm super pumped for the upcoming election, even though the shift in power always gives me a stomachache."

Russia nodded, elections tended to do that to everyone. "Will you be backing a certain candidate?"

He gasped, scandalized. "You know I can't do that! It's un-American!"

Russia chuckled. "Of course."

"Any influence I have has to be more subtle! But, I can't tell you who I'm supporting. National security, and all that. Dude, you should come visit me next week when I get back. I actually do need to talk to you about some plans I'd like you to get in on. Also, it seems our committee wants to extend our meetings and make a treaty soon, if you're interested."

"Da, I will visit you. Just give me your itinerary and we'll figure something out. As for the treaty, I'll have to tell my boss first but I'm sure he would be happy for us to join. I hear from Juan that you're not vacationing very well."

"Dude…" he groaned. "There's so much for me to do. I'm usually pretty busy every four years anyway, but especially now if I want Barack to sneak some reforms in before he's out of office. I wish I was home right now. My states have been nagging me to visit them, too. It's a drag, but I gotta do it."

"Sounds rough."

"We all have those years. But what have you been doing? You must have been overworking too if you're boss had to force you to take a break."

Russia shrugged. "Just dealing with the same old things, really. Trying to strengthen relations with my neighbors, too. People have been quite nice to me!"

"That's awesome! Yeah, it seems people have been in a good mood lately. I hope it stays this way. Oh wait, give me a second, I have another call." Russia heard only silence for the better part of a minute before America returned, huffing and sounding much more annoyed.

"What's wrong?"

"Shit going on back home, demonstrations and the like. People aren't too happy right now. I'm sorry, I have to deal with things, consult media reps and the boss."

"It's okay I understand. It was nice to hear from you."

"You too, dude. Sorry for not keeping in touch. I'll email you my schedule for next week and we can see about getting you a ticket to the states. See ya!" With that, Russia was once again alone, though in a much better mood after having spoken with Alfred. Being with Congo and then chatting with Juan had also helped cheer him up, but it was the American's words that brought a grin to his face. He could vividly picture the other nation's face throughout the conversation. Curious as to what was upsetting Alfred these days, he browsed the web for news in the States. He found a few promising articles from an external news site—America had warned the others ages ago of his own publications' tendencies to report with heavy bias—about several armed factions acting up across several states. He knew America and his current boss had been attempting to impose stricter gun laws, so surely the nation would be annoyed at these actions. Russia knew that he couldn't do much to help, so he shut down his laptop.

His boss called an hour later, telling him that his vacation was to be extended. Russia was happy until he found out that the trip would no longer be for fun but for business. He had a flight that evening to South Africa, a country he hadn't had much interaction with, and his boss would join him in a two-week long tour of several African nations. He didn't have room to complain, but he did ensure that he'd have time to visit America at some point. His boss was more than happy to accommodate the arrangement if it meant Russia's plan for America was progressing, so he agreed to the terms.

Russia's boss was still under the impression that Russia intended to befriend America in an effort to depose of all other national threats, or at least to establish himself as a co-superpower. He was sure that his boss would commandeer such efforts and attempt to usurp America himself, but Russia wouldn't allow it. And now that he had more friends, a large part of him didn't want to crush others anymore. While he wanted America to grow most of all, it really wasn't a burden for him if other nations could also be happy.

He shook his head. When had he become so sentimental? he thought. It wasn't his way; such thinking was stupid and optimistic, better suited for younger nations such as America. It wouldn't do for him to show these colors to others and especially not to his boss. Squashing down the feeling, he packed his small bag. He made his way downstairs, hailing a cab for the airport.

* * *

Russia was growing sick of airports after days spent touring Africa, often making two flights in one day. His boss was the more active of the pair, at least, so Russia didn't have to do much in ways of schmoozing. He was pleasant with the other nations, and though most were wary of him, they were friendly. It seemed his boss was set on establishing more alliances these days, and if it meant more friends, Russia certainly didn't mind.

He finally got a break from formal meetings with his trip to America. He flew from Ghana to D.C. where a private car was sent to take him to America's home.

He lived about thirty minutes outside of the capitol. His property was expansive, a beautiful green pasture of sorts with blossoming trees lining the mile-long driveway. The brick driveway ended in a loop around a fountain, the stonework complemented by flowering shrubs. The house itself was an imposing structure, the façade reminded him of that of the White House, a neoclassical bastion of artistic wonder. As he approached the front door with his bags in tow, he was almost afraid to disturb the peace of the scene with his knock. Despite this, he raised the gold knocker and let it fall three times.

Amid the tranquil sounds of chirping birds, he could hear loud footsteps inside. There was a dull thump and finally the door opened. Alfred was beaming from the other side, clad only in a tank and shorts.

"Hey dude! Sorry for my appearance! I was out back in the pool then decided to work on my car then I remembered that you'd be getting in super soon, and didn't have time to freshen up!" He paused his ramblings and finally seemed to read the situation. "Oh! Here, come on in!"

The splendor of the outside of the house set high expectations for the interior, and it was more than capable of satisfying them. The lacquered wooden floors reflected the light from the numerous floor-length windows. Immediately on entering he faced a grand staircase, its iron railings twisting in a complex floral arrangement that extended to the large second-floor balcony. America led him past the staircase and foyer and into a parlor. Here there were hallways, and Alfred led him down the west wing. Each room had its own hidden treasures, Russia was sure, though the closed doors hid them for now. At the end of the long hall, Russia's temporary room was revealed, an elegant space with rich wooden furniture and gold and navy upholstery. Adjoining was a marbled bathroom as well as a well-lit closet.

"This is… very gaudy, America." Russia finally spoke.

"Dude, shut up. It's nice! I designed it myself, you know. Helped out a bit with construction too. I was inspired by the buildings popular when I declared independence, though we didn't start it until… hmmm… 1960, I believe. After Hawaii and Alaska joined, I realized I didn't want to build two more houses that I'd have to share—I already had forty-eight!—and so I sold those and used the money to build this monstrosity. It's great though, perfect for hosting parties. It looks like a bit much, but it's really green, too! The trails are great for a morning jog, there's a pool and a small lake stocked with fish. My horse and unicorn are free to roam, too. There's enough space for all the states to visit me at once and still have some privacy, though that never happens."

"Doesn't such a large house make you feel lonely?" Russia asked, more than familiar with the feeling of an empty mansion.

America shrugged. "I don't spend tons of time here, to be honest. And when I'm here I'm usually playing video games or hosting others. Plus I have my cat and dog, too! You'll have to meet them. Are you allergic or anything?"

"Nyet."

"Awesome, I'll let them out of my room when we go upstairs, then. Care for a quick tour?"

"Sure thing, Alfred."

It turned out that touring such a large house couldn't be aptly described as "quick". After an hour and what seemed like hundreds of rooms and thousands of useless amenities—why did he need three kitchens when he rarely ever cooked for himself? And who still held balls and thus needed a ballroom? He even had a greenhouse connected to the back and opposite the sunroom, though this wasn't to be confused with the garden or the "Liberty Pavilion" further from the house. The workout room made sense to have, though the hidden underground level completely dedicated to storing America's many cars seemed a bit much to the Russian. Still, it seemed that every room had its use to America, all except the two extra kitchens, though the chefs he hired for events made use of them instead.

The last stop for the tour was America's "wing" of the house. Here was his bedroom, his study, his private library, an art room, a theater room, and several rooms used exclusively for storage. In all these rooms, knick-knacks and pictures covered the shelves and walls, revealing the personality of the owner much more than the polished cleanliness of the other parts of the house. Tony was lounging in the theater room, playing some online game and complaining about "fucking campers".

Throughout the tour, America babbled on about his numerous projects or silly memories from his home. The pair finally settled in the northwest drawing room ("This one's the best, don't get them confused!") and America proceeded to tell him about his work-crammed vacation. His boss was more than receptive to the young nation's ideas, especially since it seemed that the will of the people was also in support of them.

America talked a lot, but the information he gave wasn't anything Russia couldn't have discovered with a simple Google search. He didn't realize, however, just how shallow the stories were until he caught himself divulging a bit too much about his nation's own recent dalliances. He was just beginning to acknowledge his suspicions about his boss's motives for investing more in Africa when he froze. Those meetings hadn't been highly publicized—in fact, they had been done in secret under the guise of friendly diplomacy. No one knew how close his boss and other aids were getting to business moguls and wealthy patrons in addition to the country's actual bosses.

"Something wrong?" America asked, absentmindedly petting his fluffy cat who had nestled himself next to America's side.

"Nyet, I was just distracted. Is this your national cat?" Russia asked, changing the subject.

He smiled. "Yeah, this is Americat, formerly known as Amerikitty. He's gotten really fat, so I've had to put him on a strict diet. Ever since then he's been so clingy, but I don't mind too much." The fuzzy cat mewled lazily when America scratched behind its ears.

"My cat is also very affectionate, though it may be because I feed him so many treats. He's hard to resist," Russia smiled. There was a sharp bark from Alfred's other side, his dog growing jealous from the lack of pampering. America rubbed his belly with his other hand, and the giant beast woofed in approval.

"I love animals, man! I wish I could take in every stray and keep them on the grounds. The staff would sure hate it, but oh well!"

"I'm surprised you only have these two."

"You can't forget my impressive tropical fish tank! Plus out back there's a rookery for my eagle and owls and other fancy birds, I have a few horses and a unicorn that Iggy gave me!"

"I had thought you were joking about the unicorn earlier…"

"Nope, she's—at least I think it's a she—is real! I can't see her, but she always eats and bumps me so I know she's there."

"I see… That's… very strange."

America shrugged. "Tell me about it. I rode her once, it was terrifying not being able to see what I was sitting on."

"So many animals, I guess your home isn't as empty as I thought."

"Nope, no need to worry! Balto and Hero," he gestured to the dog and cat, respectively, "Are like us, that is, representative of the nation. My eagle might be too… he's certainly been around a while. The idiot gets hurt so much flying into windows that he must have some type of healing complex. The rest, the fish and birds, they were gifts from each of the states to represent their state animals. The greenhouses and my garden also house state flowers and other things unique to my land," he added, his voice swelling with pride. "I didn't always take so much care of my house, but lately I've decided to invest more in preservation across the land, so I had to learn how to do things properly on my own small scale. My national parks have been thriving because of it, so all the hard work's been worth it."

Russia chuckled. "Glad your nation benefits from your gardening."

America flushed. "Hey, gardening is just farming in miniature, and all great nations wouldn't survive without farmers!"

Russia continued to laugh at the other's embarrassment. "I am only teasing, Alfred. But will you have time for all this maintenance in the future?"

"Probably not, but I'll have my staff take care of things. Of course, it'd be better for the environment if I was taking care of things personally, but it'll only be a temporary fix. Hopefully in another decade or so I can refocus on it."

"You are certainly thinking far ahead."

"Ten years is hardly far for us. Besides, I've often been faulted for being so shortsighted, so I thought I'd view things more responsibly. Just because I'm young doesn't mean I have to be so impulsive."

"Of course not. I just don't want to see you become like the rest of us. Sometimes ingenuity and impulsiveness are needed; they've certainly helped make you great in the past."

America frowned. "Yeah, well sometimes we have to grow up. There's a reason you guys have stuck around so long. It wouldn't hurt to take a few lessons from others. I had a great peak for many years, and while I'm still comfortable, I can see that I'm on the decline. But, I thoroughly believe that I can be great once again, and in lifting myself I hope to see others rise with me."

"You are generous."

"I'd hope to see you by my side, you know."

"Are you sure about that?" Russia smiled, amused.

"Sure. I meant what I said about you being a great friend. I'd like for it to remain that way down the line. It's just… my people and boss may not be for it at the moment. Especially the older generation, they're a bit stubborn."

"Mine would be the same, I'm sure."

"So anything we agreed to… would have to between us. No treaty or official alliance. For other nations maybe those documents would cement things and cow their people, but not ours. I know for a fact that mine are as bull-headed as they come since I'm the same way. They love me and have faith in me. Whether they're conservative or liberal, even as they bemoan what I'm becoming, they'd always defend me. Thus they're mistrustful of one who's hurt me only so recently."

"I… understand. And what of you, Alfred. Do you wish to enter into an alliance with me?" Russia found himself stumbling over the words that seemed strangely… intimate.

"I do," America answered back confidently.

"And your terms?"

"I'm not asking much, really. I'd just like for you to remain in the G8's good graces for one. And maybe back off a bit from my fellow NATO member even if he is being an ass."

Russia growled. "He killed my countrymen."

"I know, but just… be patient. It wouldn't do to simply wave your pipe at anyone who upsets you."

"And what do you suggest I do?"

"Just… be more subtle. If you really want to get at someone, don't be so direct. I can help you, you know. Botch a few missions, misplace some weapons, tighten my purse-strings in certain areas of the world…"

Russia blinked. Could the other nation really be suggesting such underhanded tactics? He grinned. "I would be more than happy to accept this aid of yours. Just how confidential should this remain?"

"Mainly between you and I, but we may form a team with select military advisors. Mercenaries mainly. I'm not afraid to do what I must to protect my friends."

Russia giggled. "I haven't seen you so serious about war in a long time. And the last time I was on the receiving end."

He waved his hand. "Don't call it 'war', it's far from it. This doesn't even deserve to be called a Cold War. I just need my people to see what I see. There are… certain alliances I've been unsure of lately, and it only makes me want you to be my friend even more."

Russia was beaming at the proposition. He certainly loved dealing with nations who weren't afraid of a little blood on their hands, be they on his side or not. While it wasn't too bold of a move as a direct attack, he appreciated the American's consideration for their friendship. To think that he was willing to sever his long-standing ties in favor of one with Russia. He couldn't fight the grin that burst forth with giggles. To his delight, America grinned right back.

"So, how shall we seal this deal? Does Alfred want a kiss?"

The younger nation blushed. "Don't be stupid. This is business."

"Aw, you are so cute, my solnyoshko! Soon you will want to become one with me, da?" Russia moved next to the other, Hero and Balto promptly evacuating the couch to make room for his looming figure.

"Dude! Don't ruin our working relationship by being creepy!" he held up his arms in defense but was unable to resist as Russia crushed him in a hug.

"I only tease! You are such a child sometimes!"

"Says the one attacking me with a hug!"

"I cannot resist! You were so scary for a second that I had to remember how cute you are!"

"Dude, not cool! I'm being heroic here!"

"Yes, guerilla warfare is certainly a hero's way."

"Shut up. You could at least be thankful."

"Oh I am, this alliance will prove most interesting. In a century I hope to read our history books as they marvel at your brilliance."

"Flattery will get you nowhere with me," Alfred said, though his content smirk suggested otherwise. "Dude, you can let me go now."

"Nyet."

America groaned.

* * *

The rest of the trip was spent discussing more pleasant things; for others this would be things such as the weather, or sports, or maybe even local festivities and TV shows. But for both of the present nations, this meant furthering their plotting. Russia was more forthright with his plans, while America remained rather reticent, though the older nation was so wrapped up in his fun that he failed to notice this.

They only parted those three days in order to sleep, and while Russia wouldn't have minded falling back into their old habit of sleeping together, he decided not to push his luck.

The morning of his departure, there was a knock on the door. America was busy stuffing his face so asked Russia to answer it, assuming it was just a delivery for Tony.

Instead Russia was face to face with America's boss and several bodyguards. The President seemed shocked to see Ivan, but composed himself quickly.

"Russia! It's a pleasure to see you. Is Alfred free to speak?"

"Da, come in," he held the door open, feeling a bit odd playing host to the President in America's house. He led him back toward the private breakfast nook where America was still consuming pancakes at an alarming rate. He nodded as Russia entered, then nearly choked on seeing his boss.

"Dude! What are you doing here?"

"You busy? I wanted to talk about a report I received from a certain director concerning certain information about a certain Asian nation. He was instructed to hide it from me by none other than an 'Agent Hero'. Care to explain?"

"Damn traitor," America cursed. "Ah, well I was gonna tell you eventually. I wanted to confirm some things before worrying others."

"Alfred, you know something like this needs to be addressed. Such violations of human rights can't be tolerated, and if people know that we knew and didn't report it immediately… we'd be in hot water, too," he scolded, and while the situation was serious, Russia could see an almost paternal care behind the man's words.

"I know! I'm just… working on some things…" His boss glanced toward Russia. "Don't worry, the two of us are fine."

"If you insist. You know I don't like you hiding things from me. And when you get involved in deep espionage, it reflects poorly on my administration. It's tough to cover up for a person who isn't supposed to exist."

"Only if I get caught," he whined. "Which I won't. And it's not like you guys have never hidden stuff from me!"

He sighed. "I know my predecessors have, but I've done my best to be honest with you these past eight years, even when my advisors disagreed with my decisions. We only have a few more months together, and I want us to trust each other."

America pouted. "Look, I know what I'm doing. Just… give me one month and I'll show others."

"Fine, but just one month."

"And it's not like I was the only one hiding this. France had it for at least two months before me!"

"Well France isn't my concern now is he? Speaking of, our correspondence with his boss has been a bit less friendly than usual. I'm hoping you didn't hurt his nation during the conference?"

"Of course not! Just… minor verbal persuasion. Nothing illegal," he assured.

"Very well. Anyway, how have you been, Russia? I haven't heard from your boss lately."

"I am good, and he is the same. We've been visiting a few friends since the conference, but other than that haven't been very busy."

"That's good. You seem to be in good spirits despite those minor skirmishes."

"Of course, any threats against me are like birds flying into skyscraper: a bit annoying to clean up, but otherwise quite unimposing."

"…right… Okay, I have an opera detail to coordinate. I'll see you later, Alfred. I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay here, Russia, and that you have a safe trip home." With a small nod, the President showed himself out of the home, and once again the nations were alone.

"Damn that director. He's gonna regret crossing me," Alfred threatened to no one in particular. "He's lucky I've already got his successor in my pocket, otherwise I'd be really mad!" his tone seemed to imply, however, that he was already "really mad".

"Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, just people not being trustworthy. That turncoat… after all I've done for his family. His daughter better be taking good care of that car I got her… that'll be the only property they'll have after I'm through with him." With a huff he opened his phone, dialing a number and hitting send. A few seconds were more than enough time for Alfred to calm himself and speak in his usual pleasant tone. "Hello deputy, ma'am! …No, things are great!" He laughed. "Fantastic! Anyway, I'll make this quick… remember that drive I loaned you? …Good. Well, it's time to use it. Passcode is 2-0-5-charlie-tango-quebec-juliett-7-8. Only you are cleared to access it, it'll use your bio-scans. …Now, I'm assuming you know what this is. It'll be up to you put it to good use. Your informant is a burned operative, Agent 13. …You're welcome. I look forward to working with you, madam director."

With a satisfied smirk, America turned to Russia, who was grinning at his friend.

"Are you happy now that you've burned your inside man?"

"I'm feeling much better. That idiot… to think after all these years he'd tattle on me to my boss! That's okay, though, his replacement is more competent and much more pliant to my wishes. Understandable since I've been helping her since she first stepped foot in Quantico."

"What was on this file for her?"

"Just compounded evidence of his corruption. He was always leaking things to an unknown entity and their communication was well-recorded."

"This unknown entity name Alfred, I presume."

"Idiot should've known better. I warned him. And my payments will now appear to be a shoddy embezzlement scheme, so in no time at all his home and wealth will be forfeit."

"You are cruel to go so far. His family too will suffer," Russia giggled at the thought.

"Gotta get the message across. Both to him and my other contacts. No one crosses me, nation or human, and gets away with it," his eyes were dark, but Russia could see a playful light behind them. The look was intoxicating, and he couldn't wait to see what other devious plans they'd concoct together.

* * *

 **Spicy: aw look it got a little fluffy! and a little... dark? hehehe idk idk. also this chapter is long AF! and so was the last one! anyway... i think next chapter will give us some more insight into why America was acting strange in the beginning. Geez, it's so fun writing intentionally cruel Alfred and unintentionally cruel Ivan. Also, i may be posting another Rusame thing based entirely off of Pride and Prejudice. Idk i just got the idea in my head and can't get it out!**

 **anyway, hopefully we'll evolve into a romance soon! squeeeee~~**

 **also is it just because i'm a vain american, or is it normal to fall in love with like every single pairing with America? maybe i've just read too many awesome fics, but they're all amazing. Harem America (Haremerica?) ftw! teehee**


	14. Chapter 14

Unfortunately for Alfred and Ivan, all good things were required to come to an end, it seemed, and they were forced to cease their reclusive meeting to attend to other business. Russia's boss was growing annoyed at his extended trip away from his diplomatic pursuits and deemed three days more than enough time for him to "bond" with America.

Giggling, Russia offered America a chaste kiss on the cheek in parting. He only laughed more on seeing America's embarrassment and was quickly met with the door to his face. America cursed his luck—he'd manage to remain composed in Russia's presence the past few days since they were conducting important business, but that kiss, as innocent as it was, made America's heart thud uncomfortably quick.

The first few moments that Alfred had been reunited with his heart were a whirlwind of emotions. The only moment of clarity came when he turned and saw Ivan, and the emotion that followed made perfect sense.

Though why _that_ feeling came over him like a vicious wave was beyond him. He wasn't an idiot, despite what people always thought, and while he was admittedly bad at reading rooms, he was more than capable of reading his own thoughts, which at that moment were easily deciphered.

Of all the nations for America to have fallen for… why Russia? He groaned at the thought. Sure, they were friends now, but Russia had always been unpredictable with his alliances. He wasn't ready to trust the other nation completely, and so he saw their current alliance as a sort of test. If they could get along politically, maybe then his people would be more accepting of them becoming closer. Only then could they have a relationship of the romantic kind.

As far as America was concerned, starting something more intimate with Russia would be all or nothing. The second Russia or his bosses thought to retaliate in another Cold War, or even a hot nuclear altercation, it would be more than America could take. Such a rejection… he'd stop at nothing to rid the world of the one who had wronged him. He was more than ready for total war, as he had a few tricks up his sleeve that even his president didn't know about.

Still, he hoped it wouldn't come to that. It would be better for the world, he thought, if he and Russia didn't form an alliance. Something so unstable could only wreak havoc on the world stage. Perhaps he would be smart to distance himself from the other instead to avoid any potential for fall-out. Although America in his youth often succumbed to his moments of selfishness, he knew it'd be best in this case to give up on what he wanted. And so he decided that, for the benefit of mankind, he and Russia could not be together in any capacity beyond being friends and political allies. Even if their current secret alliance turned out well, pursuing anything further would be folly on both their parts. Luckily for him, Russia would never have to know about the dilemma he was facing, as he was sure the other would offer his own input that would complicate things.

America finally found himself without a lot of work to distract himself once Russia had left. They had made great use of their time planning out their strange alliance, and America had done just about all he could to plant the seeds of his own silent revolution.

Left without busy-work, Alfred joined Tony who had been binging new games from Japan for the entirety of Russia's trip. The pair only took a break from gaming to discuss Alfred's recent research interests; the alien was always a good resource when he was stumped with a problem or needed inspiration thanks to his knowledge of advanced systems and scientific applications. It may have been an unfair advantage for his nation, but he sure wasn't complaining.

"So, how's the big lug?" Tony asked while his game was busy loading.

America shrugged. "He's fine. He appreciated my offer, as I knew he would. Although I'm a bit suspicious of his boss right now."

"How come?"

"Well, the two of them have been all over the nations of Africa. The meetings have been conducted in relative secrecy, and that's never a good sign. There could be another alliance in the works if my operatives in his office are giving me good intel."

"Why don't you just ask him? Shouldn't friends be able to tell each other these kind of things?"

"It's a bit more complicated than that. If his boss wants him to keep his mouth shut, he's obligated to do so. Even if he wants to tell me, he might get punished."

"Well, maybe he's just looking for new friends?" Tony suggested.

"I doubt it. If it was Ivan's idea, maybe, but it was his boss's, so I don't trust it. And I think it'd be best for everyone if he didn't meddle on that continent."

"Sure you have any right to be meddling yourself?"

America glared. "I'm just looking out for him. And I have my own interests in investing there as well. It's just business. Besides, I've got a longer history of diplomacy there anyway, and with greater starting capital, they'll naturally flock to me."

Tony shook his head. "I don't know, it's a bit underhanded of you. I think you should talk to him about it at least."

"Maybe. But, he knows as well as I that some things are beyond our control. If I suggest it to my boss and he backs it, then nothing else I do can stop it."

"And what if he finds out that _you_ sabotaged him? After you made your little treaty to sabotage only his enemies? Surely he'll recognize your style after days spent becoming familiar with your tactics."

"He won't find out. While he likes to think that his hackers and stateside agents are the best, my people have been keeping a close eye on them for a while now. I'll feed them—plus all the other nation's spies—only what I want them to know. Makes it easy to see who's actually using my supposed 'weaknesses' against me."

"I didn't know you were so… prepared. When did you organize all this? I thought you had been pretty light-hearted these past few years."

"Some of my advisors suggested it. I thought they were just being paranoid but allowed them to do what they wanted. I never even looked at the reports until last week, and I'm so glad they had everything set up."

Tony frowned at his friend's new attitude. It wasn't like him to be so mistrustful. "So you monitor even your closest friends and allies?"

"It's what needs to be done when you're at the top. You know none of them would catch me should I fall. Family ties and loyalty be damned, they mean nothing to these old geezers. All of them have betrayed their friends to save their own pathetic lives in the past, and I can't forget their bloodlust."

"And what of yours? Sure, you haven't killed a nation, but right now you seem eager to do so! I thought you were past this cruelty! I thought you had a heart again!"

"I do have a heart! And it hurts, okay?! I remember how happy and great my nation was, and I remember that pain when my own friends hurt me and my people! I won't let that happen again! I know I seem evil to you right now, but it's only to protect them. I will not let anyone threaten my people again. They will always come first, and only after them will I think about my other allies."

"You're sounding paranoid, like you were decades ago! It's not good for your people's mental health when you're like this!"

"I know that, but this is only temporary. Unlike then, I do have hope. I was happy with Russia here, it's not like everything I feel is negative right now… I'm just… understanding my place. For the next few years, I need to fix things, myself included." America stood, rubbing his neck sheepishly. "I'm sorry for shouting at you. You know I respect your opinion and your friendship. Just… trust me, okay? I'm not as bad right now as I was during the war. I'll be fine, you'll see."

Tony sighed. "Alright, Al. I'll trust you. Just… be good to yourself. Let yourself be happy, okay? Not everyone's out to get you, and not everyone needs your help. You're strong because you stood on your own two feet. If you really want others to grow, it's okay to let them stand alone as well, sometimes."

America smiled. "Thanks for understanding, Tony, I'll try to remember that. I'm going to the White House for a bit. I have to pet sit while the boss is out of town. I'll catch you later." With a wave, he was gone. Tony was worried for his friend, but he sensed some truth in his words. America had been through a lot, but his anger was composed. It wasn't manic or misplaced. He only hoped that things would work out as well as the young nation promised.

The last time he'd seen Al so threatening and slightly unhinged was before the Cold War. He had just returned home from a failed diplomatic mission to Russia. Tony couldn't even understand the boy through his tears and numerous tantrums. Only years later, when Alfred came to him asking for help with his memories, did he understand what had happened during that fateful trip. That memory was still in Tony's possession, the one that triggered America and Russia's longest conflict. It, along with many other run-ins with Russia, were all that remained to complete America's memories.

Tony was conflicted: would it be better to return these memories to America as soon as possible? Would knowing allow Alfred to open up to Russia, to forgive him for those years of pain? Or would it harden his heart to their budding friendship? Tony feared that Alfred's coming actions would bring about a second Cold War, perhaps even a World War 3. Being not of Earth, he wasn't sure when it would be appropriate for him to intervene. Still, he had his mission which was to help Al. If that meant sticking with him through a few years of uncharacteristic behavior, then so be it. Giving him the memories now wouldn't help him solve his present issues. But, it was possible that the memories could be used on another nation in order to persuade them to stick with Al as well. Tony sighed, too consumed with his thoughts to enjoy his game further. Deciding to busy himself with some of Al's research projects, he shut off the system, making his way toward Alfred's personal lab hidden in the basement.

* * *

As spring flowed into summer, so too did strife become replaced with peace. Fighting was kept to a minimum, and most countries experienced a flux of economic growth and stability. The only country who struggled was China who was in hot water after some incriminating videos were released detailing cruelty on the part of his government toward religious minority groups—Ivan assumed this was done by America, though what he could benefit from sharing the information was beyond him. Despite this, China was still managing his country well, though others were wary of him and Taiwan and Hong Kong's bosses were arguing for distancing themselves.

As a well-deserved break, some countries were able to meet together during the Olympics in Brazil, Russia among them. His trip through Africa had resulted in an amicable series of unofficial treaties, and both he and his boss were happy. He had always loved making friends, and his newest allies were not afraid of him like so many other nations were. Sure, they were intimidated by him, they'd be idiotic not to be; but, this bred respect rather than horror.

He was surprised that America was not in attendance at the games; he was usually always present at international competitions, boasting about his teams' superiority even after defeat. They hadn't talked since Russia's visit, only communicating via cryptic messages. Russia had eventually found out that America hadn't even been reading or writing the notes, but rather an intermediary had been responsible for the exchanges. After that, Russia had his own operative continue the notes, no longer interested in contributing if he wasn't truly interacting with Alfred.

The games had been going well for Russia, and he was satisfied with his peoples' performances. They had secured several gold medals and a handful of silvers and bronzes. America was also making a good show, securing the top spot for number of medals by a large margin, and even had the most gold, though he was winning by only three.

Russia had been feeling rather social at the start of the games, but after a few days found that no one else was feeling as talkative. He would walk into rooms and countries would go quiet—even his new friends never seemed happy to see him. He didn't understand it, perhaps they were too competitive for socializing, he thought.

It wasn't until weeks after the games that he received an explanation. His boss burst into his office, spewing angrily and cursing. Russia had had his share of cruel bosses, many that would physically harm him, but his current boss rarely lashed out in that way. And so, Ivan didn't even think to defend himself when he was slapped, the sound echoing in the empty room. As he rubbed his cheek, his boss threw down several documents.

Russia picked up the pages, reading over them quickly. Each one was a treaty, returned without another nation's signature.

"I… don't understand… Why did they back out?" he asked, though he knew his boss's anger meant that the man had no idea himself.

Russia slumped in his seat, reading the attached notes while his boss continued to verbally abuse his diplomacy skills. Out of all the nations he had reached informal agreements with, only two decided to go along with the papers he had had drawn up. Two out of twenty-six. They all had excuses: they didn't trust his government, they had found his operatives in their countries, they had received an offer from another nation not on friendly terms with him, their people didn't like him…

It wasn't often that Russia cried because of politics. He was used to rejection. He kept a calm expression until his boss finished his tirade, but afterwards, he couldn't stop the few tears that leaked out. He only allowed himself a few moments to mourn, however, before he was back to his stoic self. Only the closest of his advisers could tell, but for the next few weeks his smile hid a cruel intent that he hadn't felt in decades.

With the end of summer came the end of Russia's diplomatic efforts entirely. He wasn't alone in this, however; it seemed America was attending fewer and fewer NATO meetings in favor of conferring with his physical neighbors, instead. He was thankful that the snub had been dealt privately, or else he'd have no choice but to punish the offenders. Still, he was a bit petty when interacting with them. He traded less with them, and any of those nations' citizens who entered his borders were often met with hostility.

His boss's mood eventually improved, though this was mainly due to the failings of their enemies rather than his own success. America had been true to his word, and Turkey was subjected to his own internal turmoil thanks to the others efforts. Based on economic reports, it seemed that America's withdrawal of business in the area had spooked other nations to back out of the country as well, and Turkey was floundering.

By fall, Turkey was desperate, acting out rashly during meetings. Other nations avoided him entirely; the only one who offered him any relief was Japan, although now that he and Greece were back together, his aid was restricted by his jealous lover. There were talks of helping out the nation by NATO, but no one wished to risk catching his cold. Even America, the king of throwing money at unpopular causes, turned his back on the situation, merely saying that he wished to invest elsewhere. This comment was the nail in the coffin, and so everyone turned away from Turkey. Even his oldest friends were swayed by the superpower's opinion.

It was a particularly cold winter, and Turkey's people were restless. All along his borders skirmishes arose. NATO wasn't impressed by the way his government handled the situation, but nor did they offer any assistance. As it was, a particularly bloody and well-documented bout placed him on probation within NATO, just as Russia's own suspension within the G8 expired. America's new boss was already talking with Russia's boss, and the two got along well.

America finally made an appearance during the World Cup, though he never watched the games, apparently too busy conducting business with Japan to sit around for hours at a time. Still, Russia managed to track him down before his flight out—his team had been knocked out after group play, unfortunately, though America's team was still fighting on.

"Hey, dude, how's it going?" he asked through a mouthful of bagel on noticing his friend. He was sitting in the hotel lounge, clacking away at his laptop. He shut the device when Russia approached. "Sorry about the loss."

"Thank you for the condolences. I am fine. I had heard that you'd been working the whole time, but I couldn't believe it. You really should go to your next game, it'll do wonders for morale. You will need it," Russia almost pitied the other having to face the previous champion so early in the knockout round.

"I can't, unfortunately. But, the guys know that I'm watching, and they understand how busy I am. We'll win this, I can feel it."

Russia settled into the chair facing America. "I have not heard a lot from you lately."

"Ah, well, Sue's been sending the weekly reports, hasn't she?"

"I don't care about those. We have not spent time together in a long time."

"You know we're both really busy."

"I know, and I appreciate what you've done to help me with my problems. But, I feel more like allies than friends right now. Aren't we friends?" Russia pouted.

"Of course! Uh, well, do you want to come out before the World Conference like I mentioned before? Luckily it's far enough past inauguration that I can leave the new boss alone for a bit without worrying about him wrecking the place."

"Da, that sounds nice."

"Cool. Oh yeah, did you read my last report?"

"I haven't read them since I noticed you weren't writing them," he confessed.

America rolled his eyes, blowing a puff of air from his mouth. His cowlick flurried. "Dude, be professional. Well, I've been giving you some good info. I told you that I was a bit worried about Turkey—he's been talking to a few people lately. I hadn't figured out who, but now I know. Several nations in Africa, as well as China and Japan." He removed a thumb-drive from his jacket pocket, tossing it onto Russia's lap with a quick flick of his wrist. "This is what I've got on his correspondence. It doesn't seem like anyone's biting, but things could escalate, who knows?"

"What have they been talking about?"

"Just trade agreements, mainly, but I still think it wouldn't hurt to be careful. You're friends with most of the African nations though, aren't you?"

Russia narrowed his eyes; something seemed off about America's tone. "That didn't pan out. My contacts are limited to west Africa now."

America nodded, "Sorry to hear that. Well, they've hosted him more than once these past few months, I do know that. He hasn't been to the western nations, though. Is it possible he knows who you've been in contact with?"

"I doubt it."

"Tanyel Egorkov."

Russia started at the name. "What did you say?"

"Commander Egorkov, she's been in your ranks since after the fall. She's been under cover so long, her real name doesn't even exist anymore. As far as the Turkish government is concerned, she's been dead for a decade. But a private intelligence agency frequented by our fellow nation knows all about her, and they know everything she knows."

Russia stiffened. "How the fuck would you know this, unless you have someone inside as well? You dare accuse my own people?"

"It's not a faulty accusation. I've got evidence on her, if you want it."

"Why wouldn't you tell me this sooner?"

"It didn't seem important."

"You'd allow me to be betrayed for your own convenience then, is that it?"

"Look, I'm not even supposed to be telling you this much! This is all I can offer you."

"You'd hide this from me? To protect your own operations? One worthless human is worth more to you than my nation?"

"I had no choice."

"I want your people out. Immediately."

"You're not being fair."

"And you ask me about my dealings in Africa… as if you didn't know all along! Is it amusing, to watch me fail?"

"Ivan, please, calm down."

"I will not be calm! I don't want your scum meddling in my affairs. Pull them out, now."

"It's not that simple... Besides you have agents in my ranks, too. It's a two-way street, Ivan."

"A two-way street with one side obscured by darkness. You seem to know everything, I'm sure you have my agents' names on another stupid drive of yours." He was breathing heavily, but he knew that America had a point. Both were guilty of duplicitous habits. "Do you know their names?"

America seemed heavily invested in his coffee as his examined the contents closely, avoiding Russia's eye. "I do."

"And what will you do to them?"

"I wouldn't harm them unless provoked. I keep an eye on them, and not just yours, you know."

Russia chuckled. "You've always been a worthy adversary. I'm glad we're _friends_ now," his words were venom.

"We are friends! You're always like this, freaking out about things… it's not personal, okay? Grow up!"

"Shut up, you brat. I won't have you control me like you control the others."

"Whatever, dude. I'm not gonna take this shit when you're in a mood. Give it a few days and you'll see how childish you're being. As far as I'm concerned, this doesn't change anything between us. I'll still hold up my end of the bargain. I'd advise you to do the same: if you act up in a way that upsets the G8, then you'll end up just like Turkey."

"You mean if I upset you in any way, seeing as they will blindly follow you," Russia spat.

America sighed, rubbing his temple. "There's not much I can say to you right now that'll please you. Yes, I have agents in your land. I have them everywhere. I know of many other foreign operatives in Russia as well. If it'll make you happy, I can relay these names to you. However, if anything you do to them becomes public knowledge, the G8 won't be happy. I won't give a fuck how you take out your anger, in that you're mistaken. You should know by now that my tolerance for cruelty is higher than most people would think."

"Give me their names, then."

"Fine, I'll have the list delivered to your home in Moscow. Anything else?"

"I want the names of your men."

"That I won't do. I value the lives of my people over anything else."

"Fine. I'll figure it out soon enough." He crossed his arms, glaring across the table. "So does this mean any intel I've gathered from you has been a front? You've only availed what you want me to know?"

"That's the gist of it. But you're right, we are friends now. We shouldn't hide things. I'll try to be more forthright with information if it doesn't endanger my people, alright?"

Russia's lips were still curled in a snarl, but he said, "Fine," before standing. "Because of your lies, I do not know if I will take up your previous offer of a visit. I will decide this later."

"I understand. Just let me know."

Russia refused to deign a proper salutation, so he left America alone, grabbing his suitcases and exiting the lounge for the lobby.

* * *

 **a/n: hello hello! so, shorter chapter, i know (at least compared to the last two which were long AF!). i apologize for the delay in updating. i got my wisdom teeth out like a week and a half ago, and i'm still like hella drugged up haha. plus i had to come back to school for spring semester! my classes so far seem exciting. i'm also taking japanese for fun, so soon i will be reading all the amerus/rusame doujinshi *nosebleeds***

 **also i know this was pretty time skippy, so sorry if the flow is weird. i'm trying to move this along, though! so don't worry, i have a plan. also, it's getting a bit politicy, how intriguing! and, all of this is set in the future (rn it's 1-17-16) if you haven't noticed. fun fact, i'm not a psychic, nor am i such a poli-sci/history buff to make ridiculously detailed predictions of the coming years, so i'm really just extrapolating. you know, artistic liberty and shit. so if you're reading this in like 2k17 and think i'm super dumb, that's why haha.**

 **also thanks to my reviewers! you guys are so sweet! i'm glad you miss me (#^_^#)**


	15. Chapter 15

Despite a less than friendly parting, Russia and America were able to maintain their current working relationship in the following months. America had gone back to being a recluse and missed a G8 meeting, claiming he was too busy preparing for the induction of his new boss to leave his land. Of course, no one at the meeting questioned him. Usually they'd give him a hard time for shirking his duties, but after his recent attitude change, most were afraid to speak ill of him for fear of being black-listed by the superpower as Turkey had been. No one was quite sure what Turkey did to earn America's cold shoulder, but they didn't want to risk anything so they kept their opinions to themselves.

For Russia's birthday he received a beautiful carved figurine from America. It was small, just over five inches tall, a porcelain ballerina. Though it was small, the detailing was exquisite. Her leotard and shoes were not merely painted porcelain, but rather overlaid with pink gems. He could tell from the weight that her blonde topknot was plated gold, and her eyes were of sapphire. She bore a coy smile that was instantly recognizable by anyone acquainted with Alfred. It was able to stand freely on its dainty feet set in fifth position due to the weight of the gems on the shoes—it was clear that each foot bore a single stone, carved to look smooth as satin.

He hated that America would dare put so much thought into a gift for him. In the past he'd only received presents from him that were more jocular, gag gifts or cute stuffed animals of his country's cartoon characters; the last time he'd been given something so meaningful was when Ukraine gave him his scarf. It took almost all of his self-control not to bash the thing against his desk, shattering the limbs to abate his petulant anger. Instead, he chose to ignore the name on the card and just admire the superb craftsmanship by displaying it prominently on his desk. He did not respond to the handwritten note.

While the New Year's Holiday was a national holiday in his land, Russia was still required to come to work and meet with his boss—politics never ceased. Much to his chagrin, America had even sent him flowers each day leading to January 7, or Christmas. He was quick to toss them out so that his boss and other aides wouldn't ask him questions, though on the walks to the trash can he did appreciate the bright assortments. Each bouquet featured sunflowers, though by day there'd be new secondary flower: lilies, peonies, chamomile, and roses.

Finally, for Christmas he received one final present, this one a second figurine that complemented the first. This one was taller and thinner, with long hair that appeared to be set in rose-tinted platinum and eyes of amethyst. Her ensemble was constructed similarly to the first, though her body was positioned differently. The first stood with feet facing outward and with arms curved above her head. The second's feet were spread similarly, but her arms were cupped in front of her stomach with a gap between her palms. When fitted together, the taller figurine was holding the other's waist, acting as a male partner in preparatory steps for a lift, it seemed.

Russia was not an idiot and could easily dredge out the analogy of the dolls, though he wasn't sure what Alfred was attempting to say with the gesture. He finally turned away from the figurines to read the tacky card that had also been sent—apparently Alfred's poor taste would never change even when he became more focused and serious.

 _"Hey dude! I hope you like these little things, aren't they cute? I hope they ship to you on time and that you've had a good winter break—must be nice, you lazy ass. ;)_

 _Anyway, I know I mentioned it in my other gifts, but I was hoping to hear from you soon! We left things on a low note, and I don't want it to be like that. I'm not, like, trying to buy your favor or anything, just being friendly. I actually just found these when I was cleaning out one of my storage rooms. I don't remember why I have them or where they came from, but I thought they looked a lot like us! I hope you can forgive me. I've actually had some pretty good talks with my intelligence agency directors and they're pretty supportive of pulling our operatives out of your agencies. Of course, it won't be for a few months or maybe even years, so I hope you understand the delay._

 _I'm sure you can see the significance of this move… while they're happy to do it to bring my people home, they are aware that we'll be blind when it comes to what you're doing. But, I'm going out on a limb here and trusting that you won't be plotting against me for a while. So don't make me look stupid by proving me wrong, okay?_

 _Merry Christmas, Ivan!_

 _P.S. (did you know this means_ post scriptum _? I totally thought it meant "postal service", but then I was like hey you guys don't have the U.S.P.S. like we do, so do you write that? So I double checked with my boss the meaning and he explained it! Crazy! Anyway…) The second part of your Christmas present should be arriving by eleven o'clock AM your time! Have fun!"_

It was a lot to take in—why would he have these and not remember them? Perhaps it was one of the memories that Tony had kept. Also, he was happy that Alfred was actually doing what he requested, even if it was a bit impractical and unfair of him to demand it. Maybe he'd talk to his advisors about ending their own operations in America. The other already knew their names, anyway, so the information was specifically filtered. He'd rather not let America have a way to keep tabs on him in this way.

He found it amusing that Alfred would say that he was "trusting" him. Trust wasn't something nations were at liberty to operate on the sole basis of for the most part. They had too many lives in the balance to lean so heavily on something that could be so easily broken. This was the type of naivety that Tony so often praised, the optimistic viewpoint that Russia had grown too jaded to engage in.

He was willing to remove his agents, but as far as trusting America? He was a long way from that, that's for sure. Still, the efforts he was making to win his favor were admittedly effective.

There was a knock on his door. He glanced at the clock, which read 10:48. He wasn't supposed to meet with anyone all day. The whole office was spending the day with their families, as it should be, of course. Confused, he rose and walked to his door, opening it slightly.

"Merry Christmas, brother!" his older sister burst through the small opening and hugged him right. Belarus followed behind, latching onto Russia from behind.

"Katyusha, Natalya…? What are you…?" he was quite taken aback, feeling like he was speaking to ghosts.

"Our bosses gave us the day off to visit you!" Ukraine explained.

"You could both afford the visit? I wouldn't want you to be too put out by it…"

"The stupid American bought our tickets." Belarus added, pulling away from the group embrace and sharpening a knife. "I was suspicious, but he said he was making amends with you. If he has done anything to hurt you, brother, let me know and I will take care of the problem for you."

"No no, it's fine. Nothing I can't handle." He finally let himself smile now that he knew his sisters were really there. "Well, I'm not against skipping out on these documents. Let's head home. Although, I didn't get much time to decorate this year…"

"Oh! We actually took care of that! We flew in early this morning. After you left for work Belarus got us in your house and we put some things together. We just started prepping for dinner, actually, so we should get back soon."

"That was… very nice of you," he smiled softly, ignoring the breaking and entering because, hey, it was Christmas!

"America's idea," Belarus spat.

"I'm surprised he'd be so thoughtful! I didn't think you were particularly close," Ukraine said.

"We're…" he was about to reflexively say "not", but he corrected himself. "We're friends again, actually."

Ukraine smiled, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. "Oh I'm so glad! You two were so close before! He's a strong friend to have, too!"

"Annoying… but nice enough," Belarus agreed, nodding her approval. "I will have to invite him to the wedding then. He'd look much better than Lithuania next to you as a best man…"

His sisters stayed in his home for two days, leaving on the third morning. He was sad to part with them, but it had been such a pleasant visit that the end could not sour his smile as he waved goodbye at the station.

He was in a good mood when he went into his office, finishing the abandoned documents quickly. Most everyone was equally pleasant after having spent the past week with friends and family. The break had been refreshing and much needed for most.

Most days, Russia would stay at his desk from 8 till 4, keeping the door shut. Only his boss or higher ranking directors could request a meeting with him, and he rarely scheduled meetings on his own. So when he called his director of intelligence's office and requested a meeting, the secretary on the other line was pretty surprised. Because such an act was uncharacteristic, she moved some things around in the other man's schedule to accommodate the nation that day.

So it was that Russia was on the other side of Moscow after lunch, meeting with the director of the Foreign Intelligence Service. It had been many years since he'd talked to the man, though he'd seen him numerous times when the Director was briefing his boss.

Before the nervous man could greet him in his office, Russia listed his demands. The other man's mouth was gaping.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't do that. Coordinating such a large exodus would be highly irregular, and it would be obvious to the U.S. that we had been deceiving them. The point is to have this intelligence as insurance in case of war. If they suspected us, we'd lose our advantage and war would be inevitable."

"They already know all about what we're doing."

"That's impossible, sir. We have numerous agents deep in their governmental intelligence agencies, and they haven't reported any suspicion on the part of—"

"It couldn't be a suspicion, director, if they know it." He handed the man two thumb drives, the first containing the names of all the foreign operatives working in his land (minus the American ones, of course). The second had come along with one of the bouquets, and it contained the names of all the Russian men and women undercover in the States.

He accessed the second drive first, and the director was fuming. "Where the hell did you get this? _We_ don't even keep a list of names like this on any computer for security purposes. Some of these people we aren't even in contact with anymore, they're so deep. No one could know this." He promptly removed the drive, typing commands into the computer to erase all evidence of the names. He immediately got on the phone to call someone to make sure the servers were still secure.

"I have someone who does, clearly. The other drive may be of good use to you, also from my informant."

"And just who is this wonderful informant of yours?"

"A friend. I received the names of many foreign agents that are in our midst from him. He said that he and his people had full knowledge of our own operations, but I thought it was an empty threat. Judging by your reaction, his word is true. I do not know how he got this information, but he did advise me to pull our people out."

"More like threaten…" he spat. "…sir."

Russia shrugged. "Take it as you wish. He has the names, and he could easily eradicate our people. The info relayed to us has all been pre-selected by them. They would judge our trustworthiness by feeding us incriminating info and, depending on whether or not we used it against them, act accordingly."

The man cursed. "Well, it's not as if I can pull out all our men still. Sure, the informants are useless now, but we still have potential aggressors should the need—"

"For an agency intent on preventing war you sure are determined that it will happen. Listen, you will do what I say, or you will die, da? It is a simple arrangement. War will not happen in your lifetime, I can guarantee it. My informant is being very nice to me and I want him to be happy."

"But sir… The U.S. acts in ways that are threatening to our country, and to others; besides, even if they don't declare war themselves, situations that they are involved in tend to escalate into wars. Given past trends, it is in our best interest to be wary of their operations in the Middle East. Also, I don't answer to you, but to the President, sir."

Russia withdrew his pipe. "Would you rather answer to your maker, then?"

The man paled—was that blood or rust? His spirit did not waver, though his voice did. "Sir, I will bring this information to the President—not telling him the source, of course—and if he agrees to it, then we can begin extracting the informants at least. I do not think he will approve extracting the tactical agents."

Russia swung the pipe toward the man's face, stopping centimeters away from his cheek. The man flinched at the speed, feeling the wind on his skin from the movement. The pipe, warmed by being close to Russia's body, met his cheek gently.

"You will do this, then. Also, I would like you to take care of the names on the other drive. You may do this as you wish, though I would recommend following the example of my informant and using these men and women to keep an eye on their respective governments. I'd understand if you acted rashly and killed them all, it's probably what I would do." Here he gave a slightly harder tap with his pipe. "I understand you may be frustrated right now—it's not fun to have someone else in charge of your life, so I will allow you to use whatever cruelties you wish to do this job."

"Yes, sir."

"Good. And smile more! It could be fun, you know. I'm a bit jealous of you. Keep me informed what you do with them. Although, now that I think about it, perhaps don't tell the President about this list. I may want to have my fun with them as well. In the end, you'll receive credit for discovering all these foreign agents; surely that'll be worth an early retirement?"

The man nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Good. From now on before your weekly briefs with the President I want a full report printed and on my desk. I'll still be listening to the two of you speak, and if my reports don't contain more information than his, that'll be the end of your career, got it?"

"Yes, sir."

With a chilling smile, Russia rubbed the man's hair in an almost loving fashion. "I thought I told you to smile?"

The man complied, shivering as he watched the nation's back leave his office. He immediately got to work tracking down the people who were marked as enemy agents.

Back in his office, Russia rubbed his eyes. Working with humans was exhausting. He couldn't imagine how America handled so much direct interaction with his many advisers. Russia only would converse with his boss, and it was usually when he was being ordered around. America on the other hand would argue with them, control them, and make plays on behalf of his people. While it could be easily argued that the U.S. was no longer a true democracy, Alfred prided himself on being representative of his people's voice.

Of course, the opinions of personifications could never fully reflect the diverse array of perspectives of the people. The reason Alfred as a person was still more liberally minded was because of his youth. His body looked like that of a 19-year-old, and so he was most heavily influenced by as well as had the most influence on the young adults of his land. Russia's views had tended to coincided closely with a slightly older generation, perhaps the people in their late 20s. Admittedly, his centuries of life had aged his mind quicker than his body, so while he looked like a 25-year-old, he more closely related to people of his boss's age.

This disconnect that existed around him had dulled his motivation to get involved with his politics. He never really believed that his voice meant much. Perhaps as a result, his people felt the same about theirs. Spending time with America and seeing how he operated made him yearn for the days when he had been an active rather than passive player. While it was tiring, being a more integrated piece of the nation's government was rewarding in its own way. With that in mind, he decided to catch up with some other advisers—he had been pondering lately certain economic strategies, and it wouldn't hurt to make his ideas known to the leaders. And, if they rejected his ideas, he always had his pipe to support his endeavors.

Across the ocean, America was busy with his own plots. He was drafting the proposal for an alliance that he thought was rather groundbreaking. When he first mentioned it to Matthew and Juan, they were certainly shocked with his tentative list of countries he wanted to work with. While he would probably be the de facto leader, he made it clear that he wanted the organization to be a free space for any country to speak up and take charge. Matthew was convinced that their bosses wouldn't allow it; even if they saw America's logic and trusted his several arguments, the people themselves would be against it. Going into a trade alliance with Russia was one thing, but it was another thing entirely to have tactical military agreements with him, especially now when tensions between him and NATO were rising.

It was no secret that anti-Russian sentiment had been high for decades. The countries that America was to proposition to join his new alliance for the most part didn't even have _that_ favorable of a view of the Eastern nation. In turn, anti-American views were common within the large nation. In Matthew's opinion, America was too optimistic. Within his borders, his own states who existed as brothers and sisters fought constantly. They threatened to secede, insulted each other, and insulted Alfred, even. And yet, in the end the loyalty they showed was incomparable. Not even the oldest of international alliances showed such resolve. Under certain circumstances, a truly united America was a force to be reckoned with; Alfred often liked to boast that he'd never lost a war that he'd taken seriously, that is a war formally declared by his Congress. Matthew would quickly remind him of the losses he'd incurred in other military altercations, but Alfred was adamant that those didn't count since he wasn't fully invested in the "silly spats". Thus, America was no stranger to in-fighting, but he didn't suffer harsh repercussions because of it. He thought nations could fight as siblings did, acting out whenever an imbalance was felt and then let things settle as they may. However, he and Russia would not be capable of fighting like siblings. _If anything, they fight like spurned lovers,_ Matthew thought with a grimace. He admired America's passion, as did Juan, but both voiced their doubts.

Instead of being dissuaded, America laughed.

"Don't worry, guys. If you're down to join me, I'll take all the flack. But I know this will work out. Ivan wants friends, and we're the few countries who will give him a chance. Plus if he does anything fishy, together we're also strong enough together to help him come down from his fit." He smiled. "But, I don't think he will. I'm a champ at jumping into things and disregarding consequences, you know!"

"That's not as reassuring as you seem to think it is," Juan sighed. "I have no problems with Ivan, of course. My people probably wouldn't mind the treaty, and my boss loves getting in on things when you're paying for it, to be honest. So I'll sign."

Matthew shrugged. "I'm also on board. Just to be clear, us four will be the founding nations?"

"Right," Alfred gave a thumbs up. "But, I'll quickly extend the membership action plan to others outside of us. I've already mentioned the plan to them, and they're all open to it."

"Things just come so easily to you," Matthew rolled his eyes with a smile.

"Well, including Russia has made things hard. It's amazing how many nations don't like him! But I made it clear that if they didn't want to be friends with him, then they couldn't be friends with me."

"Wow, threatening fellow allies before we even sign the treaty. Pendejo… ( _dumbass)_ " Matthew chuckled at Juan's quip.

"It's just mild persuasion!" America pouted. "And I'm fine with a bit of tough love to get numbers."

"I'm not a fan of the name, why's it gotta be in English?" Juan asked. "We both know you can speak all the languages."

America grinned. "Perks of not having an official language, my friends. And since I'm gonna be the biggest financial backer as well as the one whose idea it was, I get to name it!" he stuck out his tongue.

"Whatever. Most of these primary nations speak Spanish."

"But… the United Pacific Commonwealth is awesome!"

"Pacifico… Unido… Territoria Autonomo… PUTA, yes that's fantastico!"

America laughed. "Hey now, it'd be TAPU, thank you very much!"

"I prefer PUTA."

"Me too," Canada smiled. "At least in Spanish it doesn't sound like Alfred's damn name: l'Etat Autonome du Pacifique Uni."

"But it's nice, a little punny, see? 'Cause 'pacific' refers both to the ocean as well as to peace."

"Thanks for the unnecessary language lesson, Al. We understood the double entendre the second you said it, I think." Matthew once again found his eyes rolling. Juan laughed. "Does it translate well to Russian? It's a bit weird that the acronym doesn't remain similar across languages."

"Sodruzhestvo… yedinyy… eh I'd have to ask Ivan. Depends which version of 'pacific' he wants to use."

"I also think you're setting us up as a clear opponent to NATO. Especially if you really end up halving your yearly contributions and giving that to EAPU instead…"

"UPC," America corrected.

"PUTA!" Juan cackled.

"Whatever. You get the point."

America shrugged. "Eh, it's fine by me. NATO wouldn't do anything against me, you know that. Besides, even with half of what I usually give, I'll still be, like, the most notable donor."

"Si, after blacklisting Turkey the way you did, nobody's trying to cross you at the moment," Juan mused.

"But what if Russia wants to use us to fight NATO, or something? Turkey's desperate right now, and this alliance could be just what he needs to convince NATO that Ivan's a threat."

"Then we'll back him up. But, if you don't want to, you don't have to. This alliance isn't as strict as NATO when it comes to getting involved in altercations that other members are a part of. If it ever came to that, I'd personally pick this alliance over the other one. I don't know about you but I'm kind of over dealing with all those old fuddy-duddies in Europe."

"Yeah, those bastards never even let me in! Not that I'd want to join them, but still… it would have been nice to be asked!" Juan said.

"Exactly. This new group is young, fresh, and hip! Well, except for Russia… but, we few who exude such a youthful radiance need to stick together! The reason I wanted to call it a commonwealth is because I want us all to have some mutual core values and realistic goals and actually get shit done." America gave a peppy fist pump.

"You're always so dramatic. This is all fine by me, at least what you've told us. I was a commonwealth forever before, anyway. Just send me a draft of the bylaws when you've got them."

"Will do, bro." Alfred checked his watch. "Dude, you'd better hurry and get going or you'll miss your flight!"

Matthew nodded, rising from the table and grabbing his sole suitcase. "Thanks. Well, it was nice to see you two. Have fun on the rest of your vacation." With a wave, Canada was gone, leaving Mexico and America alone to chat.

America scoffed. "Vacation? I don't know the word anymore. Now, where were we on our talks of immigration reform?"

"Let's see, I have the notes somewhere…" Mexico rifled around in his bag, snatching up a short stack of forms and handwritten pages. "Here we go. And your new boss will be all for this, I assume?"

"For sure, man. He's super chill with it."

"Good. Let's get back to work then… I showed your plan to my advisers and we have a few suggestions that might help with introducing this to your more… ah… close-minded citizens."

America smiled. "Fire away, then!"

The trio had only been in Mexico City for two days. While Matthew was forced to fly to the Netherlands for "business", Alfred still had two more days to spend in the city, though these would be spent working rather than touring the sites. The past few meetings they had held all took place in the States, but America and Canada were both quite sick of the cold winter and so decided to relocate south to chase the warmth. America had been dealing with a crisis in the Midwest and was amazed that he hadn't froze during his stay there. The thought of returning to the cold made him cringe.

When he wasn't working with Juan, Alfred, was on his phone, checking emails and the news, trying to keep caught up with his national affairs. He was also waiting for a call from Russia—it had been a week since the first of Alfred's gifts had arrived, and yet the other nation hadn't mentioned it or thanked him. At this point, he wouldn't even mind if Ivan just called to insult him for the cheesy gestures. He just wanted some acknowledgement that he would be open to forgiving Alfred's transgressions.

Days turned to weeks and Alfred still had not received a message. He did, however, see that Russia was pulling out some of his agents, arranging "transfers" or concocting elaborate stories—who knew that one of his top analysts had a distant relative in Russia who, upon their death, left her a large mansion to maintain in St. Petersburg? America made sure to send her flowers and a card. He wasn't sure what it meant… perhaps Russia was trusting him, or perhaps he would soon replace them with new operatives. It had taken many years to get that list, and it would be annoying to have to sort through all the new recruits again. Luckily, he wouldn't waste any manpower doing so; Tony had certainly helped him develop superior hacking abilities that allowed him to crack Russia's servers' codes and get the names. The hardest part had been getting the many names of those that were in deep cover and whose names weren't stored on any database. The agencies' paranoia was understandable, and any other nation probably would've given up at that point, content with the already long list of names.

America—who once presented an hour long lecture to his boss and various advisers entitled, "Why we should change the national motto to 'Go Big or Go Home'" (though he had also considered "I'm lovin' it", for a time)—would not be thwarted. Years of phone taps and infiltrations had gotten him the rest of the names he wanted. Despite all the work, he didn't mind too much that it was being wasted if it meant that Russia was open to trusting him.

After her visit, Ukraine had called and told America that Ivan was quite happy with their surprise. Through tears, she bombarded him with gratitude. He waved it off and allowed her a few minutes to compose herself. Even Belarus had thanked him, though this was quickly followed by a threat. Finally, he asked if Russia had mentioned calling him at all. At that, Ukraine paused.

"Ah, well we didn't talk about you much, other than when we told him that it was your idea. Although, he did smile a bit and said you were friends now. I'm quite happy that you've made up!"

"Your friendship with brother is noted. Expect an invitation to our wedding." Belarus added; Ukraine must have put him on speaker.

"Oh, alright. Well, it sounds like it all worked out! Anyway, I have to get back to work, but I'm sure I'll see you guys soon. Let me know if you guys need anything, you know you can always call me. Natalya, you haven't visited in a while!"

She glared, though he couldn't see it—a shame, since the look could've inspired him the next time his creative side felt like producing a horror. "Do not call me that, only brother and sister can do that. I will be in your stupid land in just a few months for the world meeting, anyway."

"But Natalyaaa… that's so far away!" he whined. "No one visits me anymore. If you come over I can show you the new additions to my collection!"

"I see all your new toys in those magazines you subscribed me to without my permission."

"You and Switzerland are the only ones who share my love for guns! How could I not gift you with the Bible of the gun community? And it's totally different to hold them, you know. You could play with my motherfuckin' gold-plated tommy gun…" he sang.

"The Thompson .45 ACP T150D?"

"That's the one."

She snorted. "You Americans are so extravagant with your killings. A knife can do the work just as well as a gun covered in gold."

"But it's 50 rounds! So much spraying and praying to be had!" he sighed dreamily.

"Whatever. Perhaps during the world meeting I will indulge you."

"Yay!" he cheered. "Okay, sorry, I actually do have to go. I'll see you guys later!" Before he could be distracted further, he hung up.

It wasn't until a few weeks later that he worked up the courage to call Russia, his patience could only go so far. It also helped that he'd enjoyed a few bottles of wine that evening. Feeling much too confident at two in the morning, he placed the call to Russia's office phone.

As expected, it went to a secretary who sounded awfully bored.

" _Good morning, this is the office of the Russian Federation."_ The line was a secure one, so the secretary knew that he was dealing with either a nation or a high-up official that knew of the existence of personifications.

 _"Good morning, I would like to speak with Mr. Braginsky, please."_

 _"One moment, sir."_ There was a sharp click, and America was placed on hold. He only got to enjoy the upbeat music for a few seconds before the other man was back on the line. _"I apologize, but Mr. Braginsky is in a meeting at the moment. May I take a message for you?"_

 _"Ah, fuck. How long will he be?"_

 _"Perhaps another ten minutes. But he will be out of the office right after. If you want I could let him know who's calling."_

 _"That'd be great. It's the United States."_

 _"Alright, Mr. Jones. One moment please."_ Another click sounded, and this wait was slightly longer. _"Okay, so his meeting will conclude shortly, and then he will speak with you. I will place you on hold till then—"_

 _"Wait!"_

 _"Yes, sir?"_

 _"Uh… what's your name anyway? Are you new? Last time I called I talked to a lady."_

 _"Ah, um…"_ the man wasn't used to anyone being curious about him at work. Russia walked by him every morning and never even said hello. " _My name's Artur. And the previous secretary quit. She moved to the U.S. actually."_

 _"Really? Sweet! Well if she needs a job, tell her get in contact with me. My secretary, ah… quit recently herself."_ He missed the bubbly woman already, and it'd only been a week since she had been retracted by Russia—he was impressed that an agent had gotten so close to him, though due to her position she wasn't much use other than keeping tabs on his day planner. _Damn him for taking my beloved Monica away from me. How will I find anyone as efficient as her?_ he thought.

Artur gaped—America was certainly friendly! Not just to him but to a woman he'd never met. " _I will let her know, sir. I'm sure she'd greatly appreciate the opportunity. Her English isn't perfect, though."_

 _"That's okay, I think my Russian's good enough to help her out when she needs to. I do most of my writing anyway. So, Artur, do you have a lover?"_

The man blushed. _"Um… sir?"_

 _"You know, a girlfriend, boyfriend, lover? Comrade, da?"_ he laughed. _"Sorry, I'm a little drunk right now. But what's your answer?"_

 _"Er, yes, I have a girlfriend."_

 _"Do you love her?"_

 _"We've only just started dating… but I do. I have for a long time, actually."_

 _"Love bites, man. Don't you think?"_

 _"Ah, it's nice for the most part. But I suppose we are in the, how do you say,_ 'honeymoon phase'."

He chuckled. _"That's fair. I'm in love myself, you know."_

 _"How would I know that?"_ He bit back. Remembering himself, he flushed. " _Oh, sorry sir, that was rude."_

America guffawed. _"_ Dude _, it's fine. You're funny! One of my oldest friends is also named Artur… how strange. I thought I loved him for a while… but anyway! I'm a fool in love and it's quite annoying! And the person I'm interested in hasn't talked to me in forever! I sent him gifts and flowers, the whole shebang,_ man!" He sighed loudly.

On his first day back after the winter holiday, Artur had taken his usual smoke break. Once outside, he was curious as to why the garbage bin featured several dying bouquets and a few cards, though at the time he thought little of it. Could it be that Mr. Jones was attempting to court Mr. Braginsky? _Nations sure are strange_ , he thought. He'd gotten this job very recently, and like everyone who works with the personification, a majority of his training was education on the existence of these strange beings. He was sworn to secrecy, of course, but he was fascinated by how the nations interacted with each other. He'd already spoken to China and France personally, which astounded him—to think that a lowly wage worker could interact with entire nations so easily!

They had been polite, of course, but not nearly as talkative as America. They were more interested in speaking with Mr. Braginsky. He shook his head of his wandering thoughts.

" _I'm sorry, sir. That's unfortunate. But I'm sure Mr. Braginsky has his reasons for not communicating with you. He has been much busier these days, traveling to visit directors and creating some committees and the like. And it's clear that he's willing to talk to you, at least."_

America gasped. "Dude! How did you know… I mean… _How did you know I was talking about Ivan?"_ he whispered the name, even though he was alone. " _Are you ex-KGB or something?"_

 _"No sir, though my grandfather is."_

 _"_ Devil's spawn…" he muttered. Of course Artur spoke English, but he ignored the comment. " _But anyway, you better keep this on the down low, got it? Did he even like the gifts? Ugh I feel stupid!"_

 _"I was not here during the week holiday, but I know he was. He has seemed in better spirits lately. And he's much more talkative with his boss, which is good for him, though maybe not for the President."_

 _"Did he do anything with the figurines?"_

 _"Oh, those beautiful ballerinas? They were from you?"_ He remembered seeing the porcelain and gem women on the desk when he brought in Mr. Braginsky's coffee order—the nation had recently become obsessed with Starbucks and required a grande chai tea latte every morning. They were breathtaking, though he didn't have much time to admire them in passing. His girlfriend was obsessed with crystalline figures, and her apartment was filled with them. She would faint on seeing them, he thought with a smile.

 _"Yeah, a little cheesy, I know, but I thought he'd like them! It's super cute, they look just like us! And by 'us' I mean me and him, not me and you. I don't even know what you look like!"_ he laughed.

 _"They are currently on his desk."_

 _"Whew! I totally thought he'd trash them. I had them priced when I found them in my house… let's just say they cost more than the GDP of an extremely small country. They're very old. The jeweler said they had to have been created sometime in the early 1800s, back when more large gems were actually available. My brother wanted them for his museum when I showed him, but I was like, 'no way Jose'. Then he was like, 'I'm Canada' and got super sad so I had to comfort him and donate another piece of art and—wait a minute, now that I mention it that son of a bitch totally played me! Goddammit he manipulated me out of my Pollock, that wily minx!"_

Artur was quite lost. He wondered if it was the alcohol making America so loquacious, or if he was always like that. His desk phone started flashing, meaning Mr. Braginsky was ready to accept the call.

" _Mr. Jones, I will transfer you to Mr. Braginsky momentarily. Oh! I forgot to mention. My girlfriend, she was actually born in Pennsylvania. She studied Russian and English during university, and we met during her year-long study abroad in Moscow. We were just friends for many years, she was even engaged to someone else back in her home while I was working here. Eventually she returned to Russia to pursue her doctorate and we rekindled our friendship. Her engagement was called off because her fiancé couldn't handle the long-distance, and for a time I was always too afraid to make a move. I thought it was too soon for her. I finally did, though, and she laughed. Apparently she'd liked me all along, but thought I was indifferent to her. It was scary, such things always are. And sometimes we fight about silly things; our upbringings and respective values almost seem incompatible. But loving unions are possible between our people. I… well I obviously can't speak to nation's experiences, but if you guys work just like humans, then sometimes you just have to buckle down and go for it. That's all I can say. I apologize if I'm overstepping my boundaries, I am just a secretary after all. But if you want Mr. Braginsky, you should just tell him. Speaking frankly, he can be a bit obtuse at times when it comes to feelings, though I'm sure you know him better than me."_

 _"Wow… thank you, Artur. Your story means a lot to me. Man, I don't even know you and I am a mad shipper of you and your girlfriend!"_ Artur was well aware of what the term meant, being a bit of a closet fanboy of several series himself. _"You seem pretty open-minded, but I am a bit worried about his boss… would he even allow it since we'd be, like, mad gay for each other? Would your people…"_

 _"I'm not sure, to be honest. But perhaps such a union would bring about change in the hearts of our people. It may be too late for the current leaders to change, they're just so rooted in their ways. But the next generation could become more accepting, maybe. I would be happy to see that. The previous secretary, she was also gay. That is why she moved away, actually."_

 _"That's a shame, I definitely want to meet her now. You're a smart guy, Artur. Alright, I shouldn't keep the big guy waiting. Thanks for chatting with me! I hope to talk to you again sometime."_

With a smile, Artur hung up, instantly connecting Mr. Jones to the phone in Mr. Braginsky's office. He had high hopes for the pair, and he quickly texted his girlfriend a summary of the conversation—hey, the government can't really expect him to keep the details of his job a secret from the love of his life, could they? She was obviously infatuated with Russian culture, and the relationship between the nations fascinated her. He laughed on reading her reply, a short blurb that read "AMERUS IS LIFE".

* * *

 **a/n so funny story, i started writing this thinking i'd get to the world meeting... LOL NOPE SIKE SPICY GETS MAD CAUGHT UP IN MINOR DETAILS YEET**

 **But actually, i always do that! i love introducing characters all in depth that you'll never meet again. just in the spirit of hetalia! haha.**

 **also, i hope you all had a fantastic MLK day. my school never recognizes federal holidays, so we don't get class canceled or anything. but, we had a fantastic luncheon service discussing how we as a campus can strive for diversity and greater inclusion. it was beautiful. we've made great strides since MLK's day, but we still have a lot of work to do before we can truthfully say that equality exists on all levels!**

 **when i was writing this, i was a bit sad. i didn't really know that anti-american sentiment was so common in russia. i was certainly aware of the anti-russian stuff on our part, but i never took it seriously. sure, we have the russian bad guys tropes, but it's so over done that it's not that realistic outside of hollywood. the relationship between the countries really is fascinating! also i didn't know that so many other countries didn't like russia, so sad really. and all the anti-LGBT stuff too is quite... you guessed it. sad. :[**

 **anyway, hope you enjoyed! it looks like america's getting back to normal, ne? review me, validate me, lurv me plz.**

 **ha, i love how i try to be super grammatical and shit when i write but the second i get to the a/n it's just a total clusterfuck of obscenity and laziness.**

 **p.s. i didn't know what p.s. meant**

 **p.p.s. i identify so much with alfred it's crazy. though i'm not nearly as smart as him. ooh you know how in pottertalia art Alfred is always in gryffindor? i bet he was totally like Harry and the hat was like, yo you Slytherin AF and he was like noooo and the hat was like damn fine go to gryffindor see if i care. i'm a slytherin through and through. we're not evil!**

 **p.p.p.s. i go to school in the midwest and it's really bloody cold.**

 **p.p.p.p.s when i type in foreignese, i am way too lazy to do the accents. trust me, i know they're there. but i don't think it's that important tbh.**

 **p.p.p.p.p.s I love writing Mexico and Canada! north american bros for life!**


	16. Chapter 16

"Make this quick, Alfred," Ivan said upon immediately answering the phone. "I'm traveling later today for a conference in Poland."

" _Ah, you're speaking that way? I feel like I speak much better Russian when I'm drunk! Is that like a thing with_ y'all? Like, is it in your blood?" America started speaking Russian, but switched to nation-speak since that's what Ivan seemed to prefer.

He chuckled. "And why are you calling me while drunk?"

"I was just curious as to how you were; we haven't chatted in a bit, and you didn't respond to any of my letters." Russia could clearly picture the boy's pout by the tone he took.

"Ah, yes. Well I've been very busy. Since my efforts in Africa were foiled, I've decided to branch out a bit more to other nations. Plus I've been persuading my intelligence directors to pull out my men since you are doing the same."

"I noticed that. But you made a terrible mistake in taking my Monica away from me!"

"You must mean Natasha, your secretary."

"Natasha?! Are you telling me I had a real-life, elderly Black Widow in my midst for ten years?"

"Essentially, yes."

Alfred sniffed. "She made me the most amazing brownies."

"She's a retired assassin."

"I went with her to her granddaughter's dance recital after her son passed away."

"She is sometimes called 'The Bloodied Knife of Chelyabinsk'."

"I bought her a prized mare for her family's ranch in Kentucky on her ten year work anniversary! She named it Muffintop."

"She taught all the new recruits in the torture unit back in my KGB days."

"She always smelled like vanilla and butterscotch."

"She could probably drink me under the table."

Alfred sighed. "Oh, Monica, you beautiful and deadly woman."

"For her many years of service she'll enjoy a peaceful retirement. Assuming no old enemies figure out where she's at. I know Japan would love to get a hold of her and try her for her past crimes against him."

"Damn. She deserves a break. You know in all her years with me she never took a day off? And she must be, what, like 70 by now? Sharp as a knife, that one." He hummed a bit. "You guys don't actually have a Red Room, do you? Where you trained your women during the Cold War, perhaps using, oh I don't know, biochemical or genetic manipulation to make them super soldiers?"

"That's classified. But if we did, it wouldn't have such a stereotypical name as that."

"Fine. Well, at least Black Widow's on my side, now. Captain America properly seduced her. No big surprise, really, we American heroes are quite charming!"

"I don't think you called to discuss your fictional world, even if you are inebriated. What is it you wanted?"

"Oh, well, I'm assuming you're not still mad at me?"

"It's been over a month, I'd be childish to hold a grudge for that long."

America laughed. "This from the man who held a grudge against me for decades? But, I'm glad we're talking again. Did you like my gifts?"

Russia glanced at the dolls. They were each beautiful on their own, but they were designed to be a set. The blue-eyed one's face was turned up and to the side, while the taller one's face was turned down. They faced each other when connected properly—an inappropriate display of emotion for professional ballerinas, really, but the sentiment only added to their allure. "Da, they are nice. It was thoughtful of you."

"Then how come you never called me?" he whined. "I asked you to... I thought you were still mad at me or something."

"No, I am not. And I've been busy."

"Man, that's usually my excuse."

"Da."

"Well! I'm glad you liked them, at least! I can't stay mad at you, you cutie!"

"What?"

"Er, nothing! Anyway, I actually did have some important business to talk to you about, although my boss said I should wait a bit to tell you in person… but I was too pumped for it!

"Perhaps you should listen to your boss… I don't want you to get in trouble."

"Puh-lease, the old man can't hurt me! I don't let any of my bosses push me around, you know!"

"Well, what is it?"

"I've been talking to some people, or, well, nations. Duh. And we're putting together a new alliance of sorts."

"And?"

"Well, we'd like you to join! As one of the original drafting members."

"And who is 'us'?"

"Me, Mattie, and Juan."

"Wait, Mexico and… who?"

"Canada, silly!"

"Er… who?"

"My hat? My giant, northern neighbor? Just east of Alaska?"

"Oh yes, now I remember him. An alliance of four is awfully small."

"Well three of us are in the G8, and Mexico is pretty sick too, so we're strong enough! But I've also talked to a few others and they are excited about joining, too. Philippines, New Zealand, Vietnam, Ghana… and I'm sure you can get Congo in with us! Oh! Plus Chile, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, Argentina… Though they won't be joining us until the first round of applications."

"It's an interesting group. A lot of them… don't like me much." He frowned.

"Well, they all knew you'd be involved and agreed to it. If you play nice, I'm sure they'll warm up to you!"

Russia mumbled something, America assumed he was settling deeper into his scarf.

"Mumble say what?" he asked.

"I said I'm not sure if it's a good idea. People don't tend to like allying with me. And then should the need arise, my boss isn't afraid to null these things."

"But wouldn't he like it, too? It's a nice foil to NATO, I think. I just… don't want you to feel alone anymore. You have me, of course, but it wouldn't hurt for you to have more friends, right?"

"I guess…" he said, still a bit unsure about the feasibility of the plan. He didn't imagine it could last more than a few years. He wasn't fully informed of his boss's present agenda, and if the alliance didn't serve his ends well, he'd quickly be forced to retract his loyalties.

"Look, it'll be okay, dude. If anyone, human or nation, gives you a hard time, I'll help you take care of it, okay? If you, not just Russia, but Ivan… if you want to join us, then you should be able to!"

He sighed. "It's not that simple for me. But, I am thankful that you considered me for this."

"Of course dude… I… um… Well… I hope you can join us." He cleared his throat. "Artur told me you've been meeting with a lot of your advisors. It's good to see you working more. I think our nations all work better when the personifications have some say, and not just our bosses. We make mistakes, but our human counterparts much more so."

"Who told you this?"

"Artur?"

"England?"

"Not Arthur, Artur! Your secretary!"

"Oh, I thought I had a female secretary."

"Dude, he's new. You should really talk to him more."

"Yes. Perhaps I should talk to him about his oath of discretion that he seems to have forgotten…"

"Hey, it wasn't anything crazy secret! Don't do anything to the man! He's super nice, was telling me all about his lovely American girlfriend. My women are just as charming as my men, it seems!"

"He's not getting paid to chit-chat with people who are trying to contact me."

"I'm sure he's just bored."

"Fine, I won't have him reconditioned," Russia joked.

"Dude are you serious?!"

"Nyet. You are as easily excitable as ever. I must be going to catch my flight, though."

"Oh okay! Well, it was nice to talk to you! I'll finish up my draft of the bylaws soon. Are you staying warm, by the way? It's cold as balls here."

Russia smiled at the odd expression. "It's cold, but it's to be expected for winter."

"Where I am, it's like negative five degrees!"

"That's hardly cold…"

"I'm talking Freedom degrees not Commie ones! Negative five Fahrenheit is, what? Negative twenty Celsius or something?"

"Sounds pleasant!"

"Your blood must be frozen solid. Kay, well I'll let you go!"

"Alright. Drink some water or you'll be hungover."

"Ha! Thanks, mom!" With a click, Russia hung up on his friend, feeling much lighter after the random conversation. Perhaps he should've called America earlier. He had long since forgiven him, but he still had moments of immaturity despite his advanced age. Who could blame him for wanting to make the American work a bit harder for his forgiveness? Although, if the other had decided _not_ to make the call, Russia certainly would've been angry and rescind his positive sentiments.

And he always called _Alfred_ the childish one.

* * *

America sighed dreamily. His best friend Tony rolled his eyes—an odd sight since he didn't boast pupils as humans did.

"Dude, I totally did it! I called him," he grinned.

"That's hardly a big deal. Especially since you insist you're just friends."

He flushed. "Well, we _are_ just friends. I just am in love with him is all."

Tony was surprised by the word choice. "Oh? You're finally admitting it, then?"

"Hey, I never denied it! I just… don't act on it."

"Are you going to?"

"Maybe… it depends if the UPC stuff works out. My people still don't like him, and I've heard from a well-trusted source that unlike humans, it's almost impossible for nations to be together significantly when their people hate each other. Not without one of them dying or the two going to war with each other. When nations connect in that way, the people, even the land, are affected. Between two friendly nations, the people don't see the sudden onslaught of thoughts about the other nation as odd. But, when a population is mistrustful of the other, it's seen as paranoia which only leads to more doubt in their minds. That of course doesn't bode well for the relationship," America explained, recalling his conversation with Prussia from earlier.

During his fourth bottle of wine an hour earlier, he had called his old friend—in the past he had given America much-need military advice, maybe he could grace him with some more of his awesome words? America was apparently an affectionate and verbally positive drunk.

"Hallo, Prussia speaking," he said, sounding rather awake.

"Guten Morgen, Gil! It's America!"

"Morgen? Oh, I'm actually not at home. It's midnight here."

"Really? Where are you?"

"Er… let's just say I'm closer than you think. What are you doing calling me so late, anyway? Are you at home?"

"Yessir, Captain Prussia," he said, falling back into very old habits of addressing his senior officer.

Prussia laughed. "You must be quite drunk. You rarely even called me that during the Revolution! Do you need something?"

"No, well, yes. Well, kinda… I have a question, since you're so old. Do nations ever have romantic relationships that work out? Like not ones that are just for sex, but like loving, human ones?"

He groaned. "You know I don't do well with existentialist drunk rants. I do better with angry or crazy drunks."

"Ignore the fact that I've been drinking! I am just asking advice."

Prussia started at that; Alfred was never one to ask for help, and if he ever did, he wouldn't verbalize his intent so clearly. He cleared his throat. "Well, I have seen some relationships that are more human-like. Long ago, Holy Rome and Feli… but, that didn't work out... There was my vati and that bastard Rome, but that also failed."

"Your father? Germania, right? He and Rome were a thing?" he brightened. "But they hated each other!"

"Ja, and that was the problem."

"What do you mean?"

"Nations with a history of hate cannot truly love each other. See, Germania himself did love Rome, but their people despised each other wholeheartedly. In the end they defied their people's wishes and started a relationship, but Germania's people rebelled. They thought Rome had violated him somehow, and hated him all the more for it. This of course made Germania doubt his feelings, and when Rome questioned his loyalty, he snapped. Germania's army was fueled by his anger, and that's when he dealt Rome's final blow…" he paused, frowning at the memories. He had never spoken of this to anyone, not even Germany knew. For some reason, he felt that Alfred could stand to know the truth. "Afterwards, Germania was so torn up by his grief and regret that he too faded away. He… didn't even fight his illness. He seemed so happy to be reunited with Rome in another world. A place where humans couldn't control them as much."

"Another world? Like an afterlife?"

"Ja. Didn't England teach you anything about nations? Don't you remember Rome visiting you on Seychelles when you were fighting mein bruder? We can die, but we can come back."

"Interesting…"

"So what advice do you want, anyway?"

"Well, I was just gonna ask about a certain person you've known for a while and how smart it would be to enter into a committed relationship with them, but this changes things. My people really hate this person's people, and vice versa. So would it be dumb of me to even try? Would I hurt him?"

"'Him'? Ha, you gay!"

"Coming from the guy who bangs my brother regularly!" Alfred laughed. "But actually, dude. What should I do? You've seen how these things work out. I haven't witnessed tons of good relationships in my time, let alone been in one. The best I can think of is maybe Sweden and Finland. Or Ludwig and Feli."

Prussia let his thoughts roam for a minute, trying to come up with the best advice. He wondered who Alfred was talking about. It could be anyone, really. As nice as he was, a lot of people didn't think of the U.S.'s government as favorable or trustworthy, and thus many populaces wouldn't want their personification—if they knew they existed—involved with the young nation at all.

"Gil?" Alfred asked, not liking the silence.

"I'm still here." He sighed. "Sorry, kid, but I don't have much advice for you. Can't you just be normal and fuck this guy like the rest of us do?"

"I mean, it's not like I'd be opposed… but… I don't know. That doesn't mean much to me, not without love."

He groaned. "You're as prudish as an Englishman but as romantic as a Frenchman. What an awful combination."

"I've noticed. It'd be a lot easier if it were the other way around! But, what if my people ended up liking his?"

Prussia shook his head. "That could take years to change generations of negative opinions. As un-awesome as assumptions are, I assume you don't want to wait that long."

America shrugged, forgetting the other couldn't see him. "I mean, it's not preferable, but I could wait a few years. Grow up a bit. Maybe then our people would like each other. I'm thinking of entering a formal alliance with him. If he behaves, my people may come to trust him more."

"You're bringing in legislation for this? For… love?" Prussia chuckled. "That's bold of you. Of course that's expected of the United States."

America laughed. "What can I say? The awesome hero must always get the girl, even if he has to change the mind of hundreds of millions of equally stubborn Americans!"

"Even if the girl is a guy nation who hates his guts, too." Prussia gave his signature laugh. "If anyone can manage it, you can. As long as it's not, like, Russia or something!"

"Ahaha, yeah… sure thing, dude… that'd be fantastic! I mean crazy!" America's tone was nervous.

"Wait, are you kidding me?"

"I didn't say anything incriminating!"

"Do you know how terrible of an idea that is? Forget mein awesome advice and encouraging words! Abort mission, Alfred! You know that guy is insane!"

"Oh come on, he's not that bad!"

"He's almost killed pretty much all of us!"

"So did I! We're both to blame for almost ending the world as we know it. We're both… so stubborn." He smiled, feeling very much like Keira Knightley in that moment.

"Mein Gott you sound so in love I may vomit."

America stuck out his tongue. "Whatever. He isn't a monster that you all think he is. I… well, I can't remember much about our relationship, but I just feel like it's right, if that makes sense."

"It literally makes no sense at all."

"Shut up, I'm voicing my feelings! See, he's one of the few people who gets me. Sure, my friends are great, but they don't see… that I'm really…" his words fell to a whisper.

"Alfred?"

"Never mind that. Sorry, my heart was just a bit… off for a second. Anyway, I'll talk to you later, okay? Please don't tell anyone about this."

"Alfred," Gilbert said calmly. "We've been friends for a long time, you know. You can tell me if you're sad. I just don't want you running to him because you think we can't understand. You have a lot of people that care for you, you know that. We'll listen to you even if you're sad."

He sighed. "Thanks Gil. But it's not just about me, you know. He's just as lonely, but he has no one to go to. It's not right. He deserves better, and I want him to see that. I'll talk to you later."

Prussia sighed as the call was ended. He rubbed his eyes, returning to the bedroom where he'd slumbered before his phone had rung.

"Who was that?" his bedmate asked.

"Your brother," he responded to Matthew's question.

"He called you?" he glanced at the clock. "At this hour? Usually I'm the recipient of his drunk dials. He wasn't trying to steal you from me, was he?" he smiled innocently, though his eyes betrayed a mischievous glint.

"Nein, birdie, and if he did I wouldn't leave your side." He crossed the remaining few feet before the bed with a leap, landing on Canada with a loud "oof!"

"Dude, not cool," Canada groaned.

"Oh I wasn't aware Alfred was here, too."

Canada glared. "Shut it. What did he want anyway?"

"Advice."

"That's new."

"Love advice."

"That's impossible."

"Love advice about Russia."

"That's… potentially problematic."

"And that's an understatement."

Canada shrugged. "I can see it, though. Now I get why he's making this alliance with him."

"He mentioned that, I didn't know you'd be in it."

"Of course, Al and I have been civil for most of our lives. We're brothers."

Prussia pouted. "I want to join you! Have Germany join!"

"I think we're focusing on the Pacific Ocean nations first. And there probably won't be many NATO members. Al and I are strong as well as independent enough from Europe to be on our own. Other nations have fought for their membership, and it wouldn't be wise for them to take a leap of faith and pick our alliance over NATO. Not many could afford making donations to both. I wouldn't have done it if Al hadn't begged me and promised to pay my share for the first two trial years. He's not very business savvy."

"How manipulative of you," Prussia smiled, kissing the other's nose.

"Well, I'm glad to know Al's motives now, at least. I wish he would've told me about this."

"Well they're not together yet, if that makes a difference. I'm sure he'd tell you if they were. He's in debate about what to do."

"Hmph, he could've asked me. I was raised by the country of love much more so than him. I have good advice."

Prussia chuckled. "See, he's not just trying to bed Russia. He wants to… date him…"

Canada laughed softly. "Such a strange, human term. Perhaps my advice wouldn't be so great, then."

Prussia drew the other to his chest, frowning slightly. It was a bit of an awkward arrangement since Matthew was the taller of the two. Still, after a night of being submissive, Matthew tended to prefer being the little spoon when they cuddled.

He knew that Matthew had other lovers, and he hadn't minded much. He got along well with Netherlands, and he and Francis had talked about the latter's past relationship with his previous charge. Still, hearing that Alfred of all people wanted to be tied down (and not even in a sexual way, though Prussia was sure that Russia wouldn't say no to that), he felt saddened. Had they all been missing out by writing off those types of relationships for centuries? If two superpowers who hated each other could make things work, then couldn't more peaceful nations follow suit? But would Matthew ever turn from his promiscuous ways? And if he did, why would he even pick Prussia over his others? Prussia hadn't been with another since he'd first starting seeing Matthew. It wasn't done intentionally—he just had no desire to be with anyone else. He froze. Could it be? Could he already be on the path to loving someone?

"Can you stop thinking so loudly?" a sleepy Matthew asked. Prussia chuckled at the nonsensical question.

"Sorry, birdie," he replied, kissing the top of the other's head.

* * *

Back in Alfred's room, Tony wasn't sure what to make of the situation. It was clear that Alfred wanted to start something with Ivan, but because of Prussia's words, he was afraid of the destruction that could occur because of the bigotry held by both their peoples. He patted Alfred's back comfortingly.

"I think it'll work out. The UPC is a sound agreement, but not too restrictive that Russia's boss will act out. Ivan will be so happy with his new friends that he'll be careful to follow the rules, too. I'm confident that in a few years your people will all approve of his newfound attitude. Then you can do him, or you know, whatever."

Alfred smiled. "Thanks. Geez, I'm not good at being patient. My ADHD is getting to me."

"Just be careful. If what Prussia said is true, then it'd be worth it to wait a bit."

Alfred made a pathetic whining noise. "But I don't wanna…."

"Shut up you idiot," Tony's eyes betrayed his smile. "Now, let's resume our _Gossip Girl_ binge watch, shall we?"

America cheered.

* * *

Alfred had followed Russia's advice and chugged some water before passing out. That in addition to his stomach being buffered with some greasy Taco Bell gave him a pleasant sleep and a hangover-free morning.

Unfortunately, he still felt sick to his stomach, but for reasons unrelated to the empty bottles in his kitchen trash. He rolled out of bed, where Tony had fallen asleep beside him. The alien awoke from the sound, knowing instantly what the problem was. He followed Alfred to his bathroom, comforting his friend who was losing his dinner—er, midnight snack. Tony was ready with a glass of water. Alfred accepted it with a smile before moving to brush his teeth.

He sighed. "Inauguration day is the worst," he complained. "I feel like I get it worse than the others. Maybe I should switch to a more authoritative regime." He joked. "A dictator for a decade would be good for my stomach."

"It makes sense, you switch leaders pretty often. And even your more minor congressmen and senators change a lot, too. Sure, the states take on the bulk of that pain, but it'll still affect you."

Alfred rubbed his stomach. "At least I always lose weight during this time since I can't eat. And whatever I do get's thrown up."

Tony frowned, that was hardly something to be positive about. Alfred's people had a high incidence of eating disorders, and Alfred himself would occasionally fall into old habits. He'd rehabilitated many times, but the vices still remained. Binging and purging was more his style, and Tony'd been through him through his worst and best periods.

The past year had been good for his health. He'd been drinking less and, while he still ate exorbitant amounts of junk food, more than any human could imagine, his daily exercise regimen prevented any fat from forming.

A nation's physical form was heavily influenced by their land mass, though their musculature and strength reflected their military might. Even a small nation, if they spent enough money on defense, could beat a larger in a skirmish. Alfred was not only large, but he was also quite strong. And while Canada had a greater square mileage, his smaller population made him a couple inches shorter than Alfred's impressive height.

"Alright, well it's time to test out my new hypothesis! After the failed Inaugural Vom Fest Countermeasure of 2009 in which I consumed more Japanese stomach drugs than my government even knew existed, it's time for a new, foolproof method!"

Tony groaned, already aware of Alfred's new experiment for which he himself was always the subject. "I don't think this'll work well. And with all the exercise you've been doing, it'll be worse."

"But dude! All my lovely countrywomen swear by a juice cleanse! And for exercise I'll switch to yoga, or something. I've been gaining a lot of weight," he pouted.

"I know you're fully aware by now that that weight is muscle."

"But I just feel so big!"

Tony was saddened by his best friend's mood. "Well, let's get to starting with the experiment, shall we? I'm sure you didn't prepare by buying a juicer or fruits, did you?"

"Er… yeah I forgot about that!"

Tony sighed. It was gonna be a long few months before Alfred's usually strong stomach would be back to its normal self, he thought.

* * *

The UPC's drafted bylaws were sent around to the four founding members, each making alterations as needed ("No, U.S., we won't be addressing each other as 'Hero _' during meetings. And no, Mexico, we will not be holding every meeting on one of your country's cruise lines on Al's tab," or "Russia, dude, we will not be budgeting in weapon's research—didn't you get the memo that 'pacific' means peaceful? And joining members will _not_ be required to do a trial run of 'being one' with you, Christ!"). They had finally concocted a list of rules that satisfied them enough to show their bosses with pride.

America's new boss was receptive to it, as he had high hopes that Mexico's position of leadership within the alliance would improve his people's opinion of their southern neighbor just in time for his proposal for immigration reform. Mexico's boss, as Juan had assumed, was happy his nation was friendly with such powerful and rich nations. It would certainly bring him improvements in economy, tourism, and infrastructure. Americans visited him often, but he'd be happy to have Russia's people over more often, too. Canada's boss complimented the plan, which had Alfred swooning—the young nation had quite the crush on Canada's admittedly attractive boss. Russia's boss was suspicious, but he saw the alliance as quite advantageous. He was still upset with Russia for messing up in Africa—he'd assumed it was all the nation's fault—but this alliance with even stronger nations more than made up for his "shortcomings".

America was still a bit nauseous since his land's regime change. It had been a month, but the first two to three were always the hardest on him. In addition to a new president, many of his states had new elected officials as well. While they usually took on the bulk of that pain, this year Alfred decided to shoulder the majority of the land's shifting for himself; he knew his boss had a lot of new plans and that he'd need people's support. When he let the states take on the growing pains, their people tended to be too combative in meetings to get anything done. It was better for his boss and his various senators and congressmen this way, as well as for the people. It was both an advantage and a disadvantage to have a government organized as such, the way Alfred could feel phantom pains of his 50 states, the capitol and 16 other territories as well as the pain of his whole country; this exchange was slightly reciprocal, although Alfred's empathic abilities were much higher than those of his states. While they could feel when he was upset, it was a muted sense and it would not cripple their day to day actions.

Still, he was in a good mood when his allies had responded their consent to the document, and so he invited the trio to his house for a celebration. He had retired from his home in Virginia due to the cold in favor of California's beach house—the state herself was away visiting Vietnam, with whom she'd grown surprisingly close over the years. America's states were allowed to have friends abroad, of course, but it was only he who could make treaties or carry out diplomatic actions.

And so, only weeks before the world conference, Mexico, Russia, and Canada all found themselves in Malibu. Mexico was used to being warm in February, so he wasn't as impressed by the climate as Canada and Russia were. He was however impressed by California's home that seemed to be made entirely out of glass. With the sky and blue water reflected in its surface, it almost seemed to be a bridge between the two.

Alfred greeted them with a boisterous laugh and wave.

"Welcome, dudes, to my fantastic winter hideaway!"

"I thought you didn't have homes in all your states anymore?" Russia asked, following the young nation into the open foyer.

"Ah, well this is Cali's place, actually. I'm just borrowing it. I've been here pretty much since inauguration day, it's a lot nicer than being stuck in back east where it's cold as shit." Even though it was only 70 degrees—"Freedom degrees, of course!"—America was wearing just a tank and some swim trunks. He led them on a quick tour, and Russia was glad this home, while still large, wasn't nearly as huge as America's was.

America was all for going swimming in the ocean, but Mexico balked at the suggestion.

"Just 'cause you came from a colder place doesn't mean it's not still cold here!" He cried. Canada was dressed similarly to America, but Mexico was in jeans and a heavy sweater. Russia was in his usual ensemble; he rarely noticed shifts in the outside weather, since he always felt cold.

"So why are you not with your new boss?" Russia asked. "Shouldn't you be helping him?" They had settled in a glass-domed room that allowed them to bask in the warmth of the sun without exposing themselves to the occasional chilly sea-breeze. America sipped from a tall glass filled with a green liquid.

"Well, it's important that I let him forge his own identity as the President first. If I'm with him too much in the beginning, I become like a crutch, and a good leader shouldn't be dependent on his people's will. He should listen to them, of course, but he's gotta show them that they've vested the authority in him for a reason. I usually keep away for a few months to give them time to adjust to things. If he needs me, he can always call. I'm glad that he hasn't done so yet." America smiled. "He seems to have a good handle on things, despite the opposition."

"Why do you sound smart these days?" Mexico asked, sipping at his own drink, an iced margarita, complete with fruit garnish and a mini umbrella.

"Cállate!" he grinned. "I always sound smart! My ideas are awesome! Not my fault some of y'all are too dumb to understand it!" His grin fell, and he winced as if in great pain. Without warning, he stood upright and dashed out of the sun-room.

"What the fuck was that?" Mexico asked.

"New-boss-aches," Canada explained.

"Ay, he still gets those? Sucks."

"He has pretty short terms, and a lot of times when his boss changes, it's to another person with completely different views. And in the months before elections, his people are always bickering. I'm not sure why he doesn't feel anything then, but when inauguration day comes, it all catches up to him. This year is particularly bad since even his states are shifting. He wanted to be the 'hero' by taking on their pain too, but I think he's being an idiot."

Mexico blinked. "Wait, who are you?"

He sighed, "I'm Canada."

Mexico laughed. "I'm just teasing! But you're probably right, America is being stupid. But that's no surprise. I'm not a fan of some of his new congressmen, to be honest. If they saw me here they'd try to deport me! As if I'd want to be a citizen of this damn place…"

America returned, smiling though looking a little green. "Sorry guys! Had to deal with something."

"Yeah, tossing your cookies!" Mexico laughed while America blushed.

"Dude! Mattie I told you not to tell them! Now they know my weakness!" he plopped into his chaise with a huff, downing the rest of his green juice in an attempt to put something in his stomach. He groaned as the beverage was insufficient for his hunger, but the bland taste didn't threaten to be rejected, at least.

"It is okay, America, we are allies now, da?" Russia smiled. "We should know each other's weaknesses so to better protect you from our mutual enemies. Now I know that if someone threatens you after your new boss is elected, I will kill them with my pipe of pain." His previously sweet smile became more sinister.

Mexico and Canada paled, but America blushed slightly. Sure, it was an intimidating statement, but he found the sentiment to be endearing. Of course, given his now known feelings for the other nation, he wasn't surprised. "Thanks, Ivan. I'm glad you agreed to our little deal."

"Da, me too. I will soon have many friends and we will destroy all opposition with our friendship!" Flowers fluttered around him.

"Dude, pero like… tu es loco!" Mexico laughed. "But, I guess every group needs a psycho to be successful."

"Why would you 'guess' that? It's not a common trope!" Canada rolled his eyes.

"Shut up, we have to balance things, see? We got me, the brilliant but overlooked and constantly plotting one. You, the super quiet but strategic and sometimes scary one. Alfredo is the lovable idiot who could kill anyone with the push of a button if he wiped that dumbass grin off his face and got serious for once. And Iván is just a poor, misunderstood guy who likes to keep plumbers on their toes with his innovative use of piping… and he's muy loco, for sure."

"First of all, stop calling me pasta! Second, you make us all sound low-key loco! That's hardly a balance" Alfred said.

"No, we are balanced in the way our psychoses manifest themselves. Sí, that's the beauty and the irony of this 'pacific' alliance!" Mexico gave a thumbs up. Russia was surprised at how similar the North American nations were, even though they were historically and culturally very distinct from each other.

Canada sighed. "Well either way, I'm not super interested in going to war with anyone else anytime soon. But, I agree with Ivan. We should trust each other enough with more sensitive topics if we want to be a good alliance. I'm sick of the other groups where everyone's just trying to get a one-up on the other behind closed doors."

"You're super talkative today, Mattie!" America beamed.

"I'm talking my usual amount, you're actually just listening for—"

"Anyway, who else wants to join me on my juice cleanse! It's done wonders for my stomach!" As soon as Alfred said that, his face paled, and he made his way to the nearest bathroom.

"What an idiot," Mexico said. "I have many home remedies that he should try for his upset stomach!"

"You sound like China," Russia smiled. "Maybe we can get him in on this."

Canada shook his head. "We already agreed to not do that. Ever since that footage of the inhumane treatment of Muslims and Christians in his land was released, Al's been adamant about keeping him shut out until his government changes their ways."

"I just can't believe France held on to that juicy bit of news for so long! Ha, when one of his own leaked it, too… classic frog face."

Russia knew for a fact that America had arranged for the leak to seem as if it had come from within France's own agency. It was a strategic move, for not only did it crush any budding positive sentiment from the Western nations about China, but it also painted France in a bad light. He wasn't sure _why_ America would be at odds with France, though. Perhaps he'd ask him about it later. For now he also thought it best to keep this piece of information from Mexico and Canada, though on finally realizing just how friendly the three bordering nations were, he had a feeling that they wouldn't be that surprised by the news of Alfred's treachery.

He grinned. He certainly had underestimated his new friends. He had a strong feeling that this new alliance would work very much in his favor.

* * *

 **a/n: hello hello! this chapter was a bit sillier, i must admit. but it was fun to write! also, i think i'll finally get to actual amerusame romance in the next two chapters. fuck this friendship BS, amirite? haha. also! check it out, we got some prucan! i do quite like them, but i also like nedcan... canada is also one of those that pairs well with everyone. in fact i'm open to most canada ships except for him and russia obvi 'cause that's Alfred's boo.**

 **anyway, drop a review if you please! i love attention.**


	17. Chapter 17

The four nations lazed about the manor for the rest of the day, retiring to their rooms with smiles. Matthew and Alfred took to sharing a room, as they often did when in each other's homes, while Mexico and Russia each had their own.

Matthew tried his best to interrogate his brother, but the other would not indulge him any answers concerning Ivan. They fell asleep snuggled together, both wishing another person was in their arms that night.

Alfred surprised everyone with a large, homemade breakfast assortment early the next morning, though his plan proved to be a bit uninspired since he immediately forced them to the ocean for surfing lessons. Even in their wetsuits, the water was chilly, and all were too full for swimming. After wading and waiting, they were no longer at risk for cramping, so Alfred deemed them ready for their training.

Mexico was more than capable of catching some of the waves, and so Alfred let him be independent. He had also forced his brother to learn how to surf years before during Hawaii's birth/statehood celebration, so it only took a few quick reminders before Canada confidently swam out to Juan to enjoy the water.

Ivan was quite hopeless in the beginning, and he was far from enthused about learning the silly sport. Of course, he had his own summery beaches and surf spots, but it's not like he could take the time from his busy schedule to take advantage of every lovely thing his land and people had to offer. He said as much when America chided his technique.

Alfred laughed. "You need to realize that you're the boss, Ivan. Even though we call our bosses 'the boss', we're in charge! Without us, they would be nothing. Don't you see that? If you turn from them, so will your people, and since you're a democracy—er, well, enough of one, I guess—you are the will of the people! So, if you want to take a break to go surfing in Sochi, or boating in one of your lakes, or jet-setting the globe to visit friends, you can do it!" He grinned. "Stick it to your bosses, what can they do to hurt you? Sure, back in the day when you had a more totalitarian regime, they could hurt you by destroying the land or the people, but now they can't get away with that. The free-world wouldn't allow such a thing!"

"I don't think you quite understand other people's unique struggles, Alfred. You have the benefit of having good friends whose people actually care about you, even if for some it's only because of your money."

He shrugged. "Well, explain it to me, then. What's stopping you? Do you really think your nation would fall if you didn't fill out all those pointless forms from your boss? Don't you think it's odd how busy you are even if you're sectors aren't growing much? Shouldn't you be seeing more results for all the work you're putting in?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm just saying, next time your boss is being mean or making you fill something out in triplicate— _again_. Just say no. Don't give him the power when you're the one who has it. Democracy perks, man."

"This comes a lot more naturally to you. To me, defying my boss and government… it is wrong."

"It's life! Unless you really want to regress to communism or monarchy because it's more comfortable for you, you need to embrace it. There's a give and take between ruler and people. The people elect him, he tells them how to live. If they don't like it, he could lose his sick gig, so he adjusts. Eventually they get tired of him anyway and bring in a new guy who's good enough for a while, and so on ad infinitum. This is how nations evolve. Just like humans have evolved into the awesome-not-monkeys they are today, so do nations evolve into the superior forms promoting free-market capitalism, democracies, and freedom of expression!"

Ivan rolled his eyes. "Is it mere coincidence then that these 'superior' traits coincide so closely with those you've held for centuries?"

"Not at all! I'm fantastic, man."

"Even with the obesity?"

"Working on it, of course."

"And the shootings?"

"Gun reform is already being passed by Congress!"

"The discrimination?"

"Hey, you're not one to give me advice about that, mister! Look, I've come to accept the mistakes I've made. But they help me improve. Otherwise, I stagnate and don't grow. That whole memory thing… man, I bet that set me back a decade or two for developmental purposes. But now I'm shooting ahead again, I've got momentum on my side, and the millennials, they're on my side now, too. Even if I had gotten a new boss who didn't have the same opinions, I'd only have to wait a few years for my plans to work. I'm in total control here, because I don't let my boss walk all over me, or other nations for that matter."

Ivan raised a brow. "I'm sure your own people may think to the contrary. You are a slave to your unrequested heroism, they would say."

"Why? Because of the wars? Well, those are of course to help with the violations of human rights."

"Supposedly."

"Whatever, they are. These are also things I'm working on, okay? Just, can you take what I said into consideration? I'm not asking you to change everything all at once, and I don't want every nation to follow my example exactly and be mini USAs. I want you to be yourself, of course, but happy. Can you try it?"

"…fine. I will consider it."

Alfred flashed his blinding smile. "Fantastic. So, let's try this. Switch your feet up, I think you may be goofy-footed, too!" Alfred kicked lightly at Ivan's feet. He was standing on his board on the sand, practicing jumping from his stomach to the proper surfing position.

Juan and Matthew were bobbing up and down, sitting on their boards while small waves passed beneath them. Such small things weren't worth their attention, so they waited in deference to the Big One. They had been watching Ivan's practice jumps and mimed paddling with amusement. Alfred was surprisingly a good teacher.

"What do you think they're talking about?" Juan asked. Matthew didn't seem to hear, lost in his own thoughts. "Canada?"

The Canadian turned. "Who? Oh, me, of course! What's up?"

"Daydreaming about those two?" he smirked.

Matthew went red. "Of course not. That's my brother, you weirdo. And… Ivan… that's just gross. Not something I'd be interested in."

"So just who are you interested in?" Juan waggled his eyebrows.

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Not you."

"Don't assume I meant me! But, I am glad we've gone from rivals for Alfred's affection to friends in an alliance with him."

"I wouldn't say we were ever rivals seeing as he gives me much more trade."

"Beside the point. Anyway, even though we're friends, don't flatter yourself into thinking I want anything more! Also, if you weren't thinking of a threesome with the two superpowers, why were you staring so lustfully?"

Matthew mumbled, blushing.

Juan laughed. "So it was something sexual! Speak up, dude!"

He coughed. "I was just curious as to who would top between the two of them."

"Alfred all the way."

"What? No way, Ivan's bigger. I've heard from Gil, I mean, Prussia, that he's huge, well, everywhere."

"Yeah, but have you met Alfred?"

"I shared a womb with him—metaphorically of course. I do know him, yes."

"Well, maybe I'm biased because in my imaginings Alfred would always top me… doesn't hurt that geographically he's—"

"Mexico!" Matthew covered his ears. He almost lost his balance but caught himself from falling from his board.

"Oh come on, with how close you two are I'm sure you've had those thoughts too."

"Well, that's none of your business."

"I guarantee that every nation has. The world's eye is on him. It's no coincidence my people flock to him, and others too. He has something of an allure… the promises he offers, of dreams and riches, sunshine and starlets… happiness that forces his smile from sea to shining sea… who wouldn't want a slice of that?" Juan's smile was sad.

Canada eyed him oddly. "Mexico… you're not in love with my brother are you?"

"Ha! Love? We are still nations, silly Canada, so no. Lust, perhaps, is more apt a description. We've had a rich cultural exchange for decades, you know, hence my more poetic musings. And the southwest states call me Papa sometimes. But nothing like _that_ ever happened between us. Perhaps when I was young, during our war, I looked to him with something akin to love. But all hopes of that were destroyed after what he did to me. Even now, we share a bloodline but some of his own hate my children. It's strange. I do want to be closer to him, though, so that none of his populace shut mine out because of me. I also want to strangle his stupid face most of the time. So a bit of sexual frustration is natural, no?"

"Makes sense."

"So you think Al's a bottom since you've always pictured topping him, is that it?"

"You are much too vulgar for an acquaintance."

"Ally!"

"Whatever. And… well it's not like I actively want to fuck my brother, I'll have you know. But sometimes he really just… pisses me off. It'd be nice to bring him down a peg."

"Ah, so you've a sadistic streak. No surprise then that you enjoy banging that annoying Prussian so much. He's so similar to Alfred."

"How do you know about that?"

"I have my sources," he smiled mysteriously. Canada glared. "Don't hurt me! Alright, Spain told me. Obviously Prussia tells him and France everything."

"Ah, gotcha."

"It makes for an interesting psychoanalysis. When would you say you developed this brother complex of yours?"

"Shut it! It's not like that. And Prussia isn't that similar to Alfred."

Juan laughed. "Ah, I suppose you weren't around Alfred much during the Revolutionary War. You do know that Gilbert and Francis were in the colonies helping him? While you were with England, he made his own friends."

"I know all that… I—"

Juan held up an index finger. "Shush. Now, I wasn't all that close to him either, but I heard from Cuba who heard from Florida who was under Spain at the time that Al was quite taken with Gilbert when he trained him. He admired the man, and while Alfred had always been a loud and obnoxious kid, he grew to imitate his Captain quite reverently, hence the use of the other's expressions and need to be a 'hero'. I think that that's the real source of his annoying habits, truthfully. His personality was already susceptible to Prussia's of course. I hear the two are still quite close, though I'm sure you know all about that."

Canada was silent for a minute. "Do you think that he loved Prussia?"

"What's with you and love these days? Worse than Spain whenever he talks about Romano. I tell him, 'you just need to fuck him, stupid', but then he hits me and it's scary so I run away! But, I don't think it was love. See, France told Haiti once who told me that while they both—France and Prussia, that is—made passes at him—don't give that kicked puppy look, he was an up-and-coming superpower, of course they wanted his land!—he was very singularly focused on his independence and wouldn't so much as glance at them in that way. France suspected that Alfred was quite in love, probably with England, at the time."

"Who knew you were such a gossip?"

"I do not gossip, I merely relay useful information as I see fit. We more southern American nations are so often overlooked, it is foolish to underestimate us!" He laid on his stomach. "Now, silencio, Mateo, this next wave looks sick!"

Meanwhile Alfred had moved Russia's training to the water. He felt the wave before he saw it, turning to see its crest in the distance. Even from so far it was impressive, so he knew by the time it got to them it'd be a beast.

He smirked. "Ready to try your first wave, Ivan?" Alfred was holding his board for him, so the Russian was laying on his stomach facing away from the wave. Its presence was hinted at by the pair being pulled backward into the ocean. He nodded.

"Awesome. I'm gonna swim out and drag you behind me. I'll let you go. Then what do you do?"

"Paddle forward, look back, when I feel a catch, jump up, place weight on my back foot. Or something like that."

"Good enough!" Alfred swam out on his board, towing the other. He grinned at the wave. He set Ivan free, then pulled up alongside him, though a few yards away so that they wouldn't crash into each other. "Alright, for the sake of your sanity, I want you to keep your eyes on me, okay? Follow my movements and do the same thing, okay?"

Ivan grew worried at those words. He chanced a glance backward and, like Lot's wife, found himself wishing he hadn't.

"I can't do this huge wave for my first attempt!"

Alfred seemed to realize the foolishness of his plan. "Um, what happened to YOLO?"

"That has always been an idiotic expression!"

"Go big or go home?"

"Damn your memes!"

Alfred gasped. "But you love my memes! Look, Ivan, just do it! Make your dreams come true!" The wave was nearing, forcing them to yell over the crashing sounds.

"That's another meme! Speak normally! How do I dive under it?" There was genuine fear in the purple eyes. Alfred found Ivan's more expressive face to be awfully enticing. It was a shame the other would probably see to murdering him when they got back to shore.

"It's a bit too big and too late for ducking under now! Just look at me!" Ivan turned from the wave, locking eyes with Alfred. "Look at me, okay? We'll be fine! Paddle forward." Ivan obeyed. "Good! Now when I say jump, do it, okay? You had the footing down on the beach, and this is no different, okay?" Russia nodded. They rose with the wave, and Alfred jumped, Ivan following suit soon after. For a moment, he felt like he was flying, high over the beach as his board zoomed toward the sand. He heard Alfred let out a cheer.

"You did it dude!" Russia looked back to see that he was indeed surfing, though the turn made him wobble. "Alright! Just keep looking forward!" America was suddenly much closer. He grabbed Russia's hand, and it wasn't until he felt the firm grip that he realized he was trembling. "I got you, bro. while this wave is totally shreddable, I'll resist the urge and stick with you since I'm the hero!"

"Da, thank you." They coasted toward the beach, keeping to a straight line on the wave. The wave had long since crested, so they were only riding on its residual momentum toward the shore. It was getting late, so Alfred was fine with heading in after only one wave.

Ivan had stopped shaking and seemed to be enjoying himself, so Alfred figured he was forgiven. However, just short of the shallows he was thrown off balance by a harsh shove against his shoulder. On his descent, he glanced to the side to see Ivan, his hand extended. Of course, due to Newton's laws, Ivan was also pushed back, and Alfred laughed as he landed in the salty water, Ivan's fearful expression solidified in his mind forever.

He let the water carry him to shore and laid down in the wet sands, lazily rolling beside his board, looking like a beached whale—a hot, ripped whale, mind you. Ivan broke through the surface with less grace, gasping for air as he trudged to Alfred. He unstrapped his ankle and tossed the board out of the range of the waves, then plopped next to Alfred.

"You're a dick," he stated simply.

Alfred grinned, but he was forced to reevaluate when he felt the sand in his mouth. "But you did it! You learned! That's how birds do it, I think. A little tough love and a leap of faith."

Russia chuckled. "You're an idiot."

"An American idiot!"

"Obviously!"

Juan and Matthew ran over, having deposited their boards by the towels. "Gnarly, Ivan! You totally nailed it!" the Mexican sounded proud.

"Thank you. My teacher was right for once. Still stupid, but it was an effective teaching method."

"That was a bit dangerous, Al," Matthew mused. "Anyway. I think I've surfed enough for one day. Did you tell Ivan that he was going to be super sore tomorrow?"

"Slipped my mind," he turned to Ivan, not minding the sand in his hair or the waves that lapped at his body. "Ivan, you're going to be super sore tomorrow."

"Noted. So, you two are heading inside, da?"

"Yeah. I need to pack. I have a flight to catch."

"Yo tambien."

"What? But you just got here! I had all this stuff planned for tomorrow!"

"You do realize what tomorrow is, don't you Al?"

"Uh… Tuesday?"

"It's Valentine's Day."

"So? I have tons of candy here!"

Matthew sighed. "I have plans of the romantic variety. So I need to be home at a reasonable hour."

Alfred pouted. "And you two, Mexico?"

"Si, I have family to visit. We're all going to Paris, unfortunately, to celebrate."

"I'll be here, Alfred!" Ivan smiled. "I will have plenty of time to enact my revenge for your stunt more thoroughly!"

Alfred blushed. "Wait, you guys are leaving us to spend Valentine's Day together?"

"Essentially."

"But…. I didn't plan anything! Oh my gosh, I'm supposed to be in Virginia for holidays, I totally spaced!"

"I like space…" Ivan added.

"Hey big guy, since you're here already, do you mind spending the day with me tomorrow?"

"That sounds nice."

"What about Virginia?" Matthew asked.

"She's fine, busy, but—"

"I meant your home. You said you had to be there?"

"Oh, yeah! The states usually have their own plans for holidays, but I always offer my home to them so they can visit if they're lonely. It's not mandatory, but most of them usually make an appearance." He looked thoughtful. "Well, I'm sure they'll survive one day without me. I have to give Ivan a good time since he came all the way here only to be ditched by his friends."

"I said in the RSVP that I had to leave early," Juan mumbled, kicking at a rock.

"No worries, it's my bad for not thinking ahead. Well, shall we all get some lunch before you guys have to catch your flights?"

"Sounds perfect," Canada smiled.

* * *

After a late lunch and cheerful goodbyes, America drove himself and Russia to one of his favorite cities. He knew that Russia himself had never been, though the man's presence in the booming tourist trap was noteworthy.

Alfred managed to make the five hour road trip in four, cruising at break-neck speeds in his sleek Mustang. They only stopped to enjoy some greasy food at a truck stop, but since they ate in the car even that didn't slow them down.

Finally, the sun was setting and they neared the lighted spectacle.

Ivan glared. "This is your idea of a good way to entertain me?"

"What? It's an amazing spot! The night life is to die for, plus there's great food at all hours! Literally every country has made a stop here at some point but you! People love it."

"If the negatives of capitalism were personified, it would be this disgusting city," he sniffed as they climbed down the valley, caught in evening traffic typical to the area. "This is the pitiful culmination of your stupid economic ways."

"Hey now, I thought we were past all that hate? Your memory must be failing you."

Russia blinked, and the anger vanished. Why had he been so upset? It's not like he didn't embrace free market trade himself in the past years. "I'm sorry. It's just… it's strange that you'd take me here of all places."

"Well, Las Vegas isn't all strip joints and casinos. Though if you are interested in VIP rooms and losing yourself to a shit ton of drugs, I know a guy from the 60s who'd be more than willing to help!"

"Nyet, that doesn't interest me."

"Didn't think so! I called Nevada during our stop, and he made all the best arrangements for our stay! We have time for a delicious dinner in the Stratosphere tower tonight—after going on the rides of course. I think he mentioned a helicopter tour to see the night lights; I've only done that in the day time but it'll be sweet! Then tomorrow I've got a little surprise for you, followed by tours and more sight-seeing! Of course, when walking the strip later tonight, I highly encouraging purchasing all the fruity drinks that you want. They're amazingly sugary and pricey but the vendors don't jip you on the alcohol, at least!"

"Will Nevada be here?" Russia briefly remembered meeting the young state long ago.

"He's in town, actually, but busy gambling his savings away. He's always complaining that people only care about him for Vegas and going on about all his other great spots, and yet more often than not he can be found here amid the tourists. But, he still manages to do well for himself regardless. I think tomorrow he's inviting New Mexico over for a date, though they'd probs go to Carson City instead of Vegas. Last I heard from Cali, Nev is trying to get Utah jealous by dating his ex—of course, Nevada and Utah split up a long time ago, but there's still that tension. Utah had a thing with Wyoming for a while but now he's back with Illinois. They used to be so sweet, but then Illinois got a bit less Mormon and Utah was not a happy camper. And he totally loves camping!"

"Uh… do you know all about your state's love lives?"

"'Course! They complain to me so often about things—I swear, New Jersey and New York could give England and France a run for their money with the way they bicker. North and South Dakota have given me the least trouble, they've always been inseparable. Arizona even dated Mexico for a bit, but that was odd, since she's a state." He sighed. "It really has been a while since I've seen them."

"If you'd rather spend the holiday with your family, I'd understand."

"Nonsense! We'll have fun tomorrow! Besides, I don't know if I want them seeing me in my weakened state."

"Your stomach must be feeling better. You didn't throw up all day."

"You're right! I am feeling better. My boss met with his cabinet today, and it must have been much less conflicted than expected. Still, Texas would give me so much shit if he thought I was catching a cold, always wanting to secede, dummy," he smiled fondly.

Their conversation ceased as the traffic thinned and Alfred was forced to pay closer attention to the road.

Finally driving along the famous strip, Alfred retracted his car's hood, letting Ivan take in the sights and sounds fully. He was shocked by the sheer volume of people, and it wasn't all scantily-clad drunks as he'd thought it would be. There were businessmen with suitcases, chatting on their phones in foreign languages. Tourists as starry-eyed as he surely was, snapping pictures and posting selfies with little shame. There were even children, and they passed so close to drinking club-hoppers, looking at the drunk girls and the street performers with equal curiosity and no judgment. Even the architecture was as eclectic as the people, with old hotels with their huge, gaudy bulbed signs glistening beneath towering glassy structures. A stray firework show started down the road, just as they were passing the Bellagio's singing fountains. Russia's wonder-filled eyes made Alfred's breath hitch, and he had half a mind to damn his elaborate scheme to win his people over to Russia's side and confess right then and there. He shook away the foolish thought.

Alfred kept quiet, allowing Ivan some peace to process his surroundings. Based on the taller man's goofy grin, he was quite taken with the lights and strange smells. He smiled, remembering his first time in the city. How the place had grown in the past decades! It was astounding, but some things remained the same even as it grew more and more sinfully beautiful.

Due to the short notice, Nevada had booked them a rather early dinner. So, they were forced to bring all their luggage to the restaurant before checking into their hotel instead of stopping to drop off the bags. They took the long elevator ride to the top of the famous tower, enjoying the view immensely. There weren't too many people up top in line for the rides, so they were able to take advantage of all of them fully. America made Russia swear to never tell anyone how much he screamed while hanging over the edge on the swings' harnesses, and the laughing nation begrudgingly agreed, though the noises were just "so cute", he thought, and it was a shame no one else would be familiar with them.

The dinner was much more exquisite than their road-side McDonald's, but the dainty portions left both nations very hungry afterwards. Right outside was a flashy Arby's, and they binged on roast beef, curly fries, and cheese sticks until it came time for their tour. On their walk to the hotel roof where their tour would take off, both nations enjoyed a few meter-tall margaritas in silly goblets. They were laughing at the multitude of odd characters that flowed down the sidewalks in tandem with them, forgetting for a few sweet minutes that they were more than just Ivan and Alfred. At one point, Ivan was too caught up in staring at a pirate show of sorts that he almost bumped into an equally entranced family. Alfred grabbed the other's hand, directing him out of harm's way and back onto a safer path. He tried to release Ivan's hand, but the other's previously relaxed grip had tightened.

Alfred was trapped, and he blushed, looking up to catch Ivan smirking.

"Thank you, Alfred. I apologize for not paying attention. Perhaps you should direct me for the remainder of our walk to be safe?"

"Oh, er, sure thing dude. Just to keep you from knocking over half my population, you know."

"Da, how heroic," Russia relished in how innocent Alfred looked, as if this public display of affection was something scandalous or forbidden. He sipped at his marg, emptying the alien-shaped plastic cup.

They soon were at the hotel and took the elevator to the rooftop helipad. A man ushered them toward a small helicopter, helping to strap them in. He stopped when America handed him a few folded bills, the outmost of which was a one-hundred dollar bill.

"Uh, sir?"

"There's more in it for you if you let me take this baby for a spin."

The man paled. "Mr. Carson warned me that you'd do this. Sir, I can't allow this. It's unsafe."

"I have my license, of course."

"It's not that, Mr. Carson faxed me that info already. But, well… it's not advisable to allow a couple to enjoy each other so fully while alone on a plane. Should the pilot be so… distracted… well, I'm sure you are catching my drift."

America was red. "Oh, it's not like that, we're not gonna do anything! We're just friends."

"Oh, Mr. Carson implied that this would be a romantic tour. I had to change up my routine and everything."

America huffed. "That idiot. Well, since I've got my license in your system, you've received sufficient compensation, and you're convinced that we won't be engaging in any hanky-panky while airborne, can we charter your vessel?"

"Sure thing, Commander Jones. Shouldn't be a problem." The man stepped aside, allowing Alfred to take the pilot's seat. Ivan strapped in as the copilot, looking amused with the respect Alfred had garnered from the other. Finally, they were alone, the man having retreated to the roof's control tower. He cleared them for take-off, and Alfred lifted the plane with ease.

Once they were airborne, Alfred's voice rang in Ivan's headset. "Enjoying the view?"

Ivan finally looked out over the city, tearing his gaze from Alfred's smile. The city glistened below them, errant spotlights their only companion at their relatively low altitude. "Da, Commander. It is lovely."

He chuckled. "Car—I mean, Nevada—must have told that guy my full title thinking it would be better to persuade him with."

"Surely he was surprised someone so young could be a commander? And how did you come to have this rank, anyway?"

"Well, my boss is technically the commander-in-chief, you know, as is yours in your land. I have the title of Commander of the People, or some nonsense like that, which shortens to Commander. Besides, we've all had our years of wartime experience, surely that's enough to warrant some medals and titles?"

Russia shrugged. "I've never received such an honor."

America frowned. "Your bosses have never appreciated you enough. Why, I've received countless military honors during my campaigns."

"You fight alongside your soldiers?"

"Occasionally. I know the nation-on-nation fights are what symbolizes the tide of the wars and so it's not necessary for us to be on the front lines, but it's nice to get to know my people. Know that I'm not the only one afraid. Makes me remember what I'm fighting for."

Russia was quiet. Alfred continued.

"You know, during the Cold War, since I wasn't keeping my body busy, since there wasn't an actual battlefield, so often I lost sight of why we were even fighting. My people were afraid, sure, and it motivated me to win, but then I'd think: win _what_ exactly? I'd lost your friendship already, what else could I gain from fighting if that was not a prize I could gain so easily?"

Russia was still silent, staring up at the gibbous moon.

"I'm sorry, it's a sad topic, I know. Anyway, we weren't even talking about the past were we? Well, I'm really glad we're on good terms again, Ivan. I don't know what would happen if things were to… degrade again. I—" he cleared his throat, remembering his plans for the future and swallowing his next words.

"Things would never get like that between us, I don't think," Russia mumbled.

Alfred heard the soft words, and smiled. "Yeah, I don't think so either. Not anymore, not now that we've gotten so close."

Russia didn't have the heart to remind him that they'd been close friends even before their war. The last century contained memories that were a bit of a blur for him. During the particularly cruel periods his heart wasn't with him, and it distanced him from the events. He did know however that he and Alfred had been close, had kissed in New York once, and Ivan had wanted more, at least in a physical capacity. He also remembered the start of their war, the event that had caused Alfred to run from his past so furiously. And yet… he could not bring the conversation to mind in that moment. Nor had he been able to from the time Tony had mentioned it.

He smiled at Alfred. "Of course it couldn't, Alfred. I'd never dream of hurting you again."

* * *

The next morning, Russia woke alone in a gaudy, heart-shaped bed. America, on seeing that his state had booked them an ostentatious honeymoon suite of sorts, blushed and offered to sleep on the couch. Ivan was against the idea, and pouted, but Alfred resisted the look and settled down in the front room. Alfred honestly didn't trust himself in such a sensually decorated space around the other, so was quick to separate them. Ivan smelled coffee and breakfast, so quickly changed and met Alfred in the small kitchen, settling at the counter where two plates were already filled.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty!" America grinned, already looking wide awake in every place but his clothes, his simple plaid PJs and slippers slightly ruffled from an evening on the couch.

"Good morning, Alfred. I never would've thought you a morning person. During the conference last year, it seemed like you were less and less willing to part from your bed as time went on."

"Yeah, well, I was pretty out of sorts, don't you think? Lately, though, I've needed less sleep, so I wake up earlier. It's convenient for work, and I do usually try to get a workout in before breakfast too. So! You ready for today?"

"Da, what is the first activity?"

"We're going straight to the awesome surprise! Once you're ready to go, we'll head out to the place, sound good?"

"Of course."

"Sweet. Then I'll just take a shower super quick and we'll be on our way!"

As always, Alfred was quick to get ready for the day, and deeming himself clean enough, Ivan only had to change to be ready himself.

It was a quick drive to their destination, and the many signs already hinted to Ivan what the surprise most likely was. So it was that they arrived at the botanical gardens with Ivan more than ready for what was in store.

Due to the early hour, they were the only guests in attendance, though Ivan suspected Alfred had booked the large venue exclusively for their outing when he saw banners advertising their real Valentine's Day hours.

They meandered the paths and greenhouses for an hour or so before finally making their way to the main event. With a dramatic sweep of his hand, Alfred presented the miniature meadow filled with impeccably kept sunflowers to his friend. He seemed proud of the installment, as if he himself had created it, though the brief summary of the true artist at the entrance revealed otherwise.

Ivan kept up his grin throughout the tour of the space. Alfred for once kept quiet, enjoying Ivan's contentment more than the flowers themselves.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" a harsh, feminine voice interrupted their peaceful viewing. Alfred turned toward the entrance, and he recognized the artist from her short bio.

"Oh, hello Ms. Lawlor. What a surprise to see you here! My friend and I were just enjoying your showpiece. It's wonderful."

"Can it. When the gardens called and told me some punk kid rented this space for the whole damn day, I had to come over to check it out for myself. Do you know what day it is?"

"Tuesday. But, it's also Valentine's Day."

"Good, at least you're not completely clueless. And do you know the title of this installment?"

"Er… something to do with sunflowers?"

"It's called 'Tsvetushchiy', you twit, Russian for 'Blooming', and I've spent the last year designing the plot and growing these flowers for this year's Valentine's celebration. See, most people think roses are the only romance flower, but in my head, sunflowers are much better suited. They're sturdy things, you know, and can grow in the most unexpected of places! I just wanted as many people as possible to enjoy it, and you've monopolized the whole damn thing!"

Ivan turned from a particularly large bloom and headed toward the commotion. "Is there a problem, Alfred?" he asked.

"There is, mister. Your boyfriend here—" her eyes darted to the new figure, and she froze.

"Ma'am?" Alfred had fallen into a slight southern accent, a nervous response that often helped him with getting out of trouble. "You alright?"

"I—er…" she blushed. "Just who are you exactly?" She was now talking exclusively to Ivan.

"Just a tourist. My friend Commander Jones here knows just how much I love flowers—sunflowers to be exact."

She approached him, standing on her tiptoes to get a closer look at his face. "I know you."

"I don't think we've met. Even with humans I tend to remember faces."

"That's a bold-faced lie!" Alfred grinned. "You don't even know your own secretary."

"Oh hush. I said I _know_ you. Not that we've met before," she clarified, though it only confused Ivan more.

"Er, that doesn't make much sense."

"You're my muse, that's it!" she stepped back grinning. "This piece was inspired by you!"

"How is that possible?"

She shrugged. "Hey, don't ask me. I never question the artistic process. All I know is that about a year ago, I think, I kept dreaming of a field overflowing with sunflowers, the petals reveling in the blinding sunlight. I just knew that I had to come out to the desert and get to work, commissioning gardeners and flower experts. I'm a painter, see, so I wasn't used to this medium at all. Sometimes when I got frustrated, I'd paint, and my figures all look a lot like you, now that I've got the reference right in front of me."

Alfred was red in the face, but Ivan was still perplexed. "I don't understand this at all."

"Well, you mustn't be an artistic type, a shame for such a lovely muse. I'm not the only one, you know. When I showed my friend the paintings, she told me she'd been dreaming about you since last summer. Her songs have been surprisingly more upbeat since then. You're all the rage in the art community, oh mysterious one. You sure you're not a celebrity or anything?"

"Nyet, I am not."

"Russian, too! What a sexy accent. Your boyfriend's a lucky man."

Ivan only smiled, not caring to correct her.

"Anyway, since your muse came all the way to the U.S. to enjoy your art, do you still have a problem with us being here?" Alfred asked.

"Hmm… I suppose it's fine, but if you could clear out of here by 11, that'd be great. Some critics will be swinging by at noon, as well as my friends. I'd really like them to see this."

Alfred pouted. "But I had a picnic lunch planned."

"Jesus, didn't you read the sign? No food or drink! I can't risk anyone getting grease on the flowers, or littering on their precious soil!"

"Okay! We'll be gone by 11, we'll eat elsewhere, don't worry."

She smiled. "Excellent. Now! I also need to check out my competition in the other rooms, so I'll be gone. Enjoy your romantic morning, gentleman. I'll be sure no one else bothers you," with a sly wink, she turned, her smock-like coat fluttering behind her. After she left, Ivan turned to Alfred.

"What was that all about?"

He sighed. "I have a pretty good idea. Here, can we talk? Maybe on that small hill near the back?"

"Da, of course." The pair left the open entrance in favor of a more secluded spot. An artificial hill had been constructed, and the plush grass offered an ideal viewing spot for them. Alfred sat down, and Ivan followed suit.

"So, I'm sure you know how art relates to us, right?"

"I don't pay attention much to my nation's artists, at least I haven't in many years."

"Well, artists are more in tune with other forces than the average human. They have a sort of empathic capability that's quite impressive. Certain… trends occur within the art community because of the nation's own emotional state. For a while, my art had been rather dull and repetitive, and this reflected how I was living in my routine of forceful forgetting. When nations are fighting, the art they produce tends to be more bloody, or when they're at peace, their artists produce more idyllic scenes. It's not just paintings, of course, but also music, sculpture, and apparently even flower arranging. I think it can manifest in fashion, too, but that's a bit different since trends can blend between nations."

"I suppose I understand. So with this woman…"

Alfred inhaled deeply. "Oh, I don't know the best way to put this... If I was smart, I wouldn't even mention it. Actually, if I was smart I wouldn't even be around you…"

Ivan frowned, but Alfred continued.

"See, the reason my artists are all in a fit about you is because of me. I've noticed this actually. My popular songs are much more full of longing, it seems. Paintings are a bit bluer, though some are a bit… well, more romantic in nature. See, the thing is, Ivan, I like you. A lot. As in I don't want to be friends with you anymore. I want to be more than that. I was afraid that we couldn't do this now, because our people still don't like each other, but even in so short a time, my people have come to subconsciously accept my feelings for you. I'm sure that within no time at all, those will become positive sentiments for your countrymen in general." He had been twiddling his thumbs in his lap, but he finally chanced a look toward Ivan.

The older nation was beaming. "Do you mean all this? You wish to be with me as… something significant?"

Alfred smiled nervously. "I do. I have for a while, actually. The second I got my heart back, I just knew it. When I saw you, I could barely speak. I'll be honest, I did avoid you for a while—I was confused, and didn't want to be hurt. Then I realized that avoiding you was hurting me even more. I asked so much of you because I thought it would help my people like you more." He grabbed Russia's hand in his. "I really should stop rambling so much. So, what do you say?"

"I say, let's try it. It makes perfect sense. I am warm and happy when I'm with you, and I want to be with you, too."

They each traversed half the distance between them, meeting in the middle with a sweet kiss. Ivan tried to deepen it, but Alfred had pulled away.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" the blond asked.

"Perhaps," Ivan's look was playful.

"Say it then, on the count of three! One… Two… Three!"

"We should have sex."

"I love you."

Both nations blushed, though for different reasons.

"Ivan! Dude, not romantic at all! It's way too soon for that! We've been together for about thirty seconds!"

"You… you _love_ me?" Ivan's heart rattled against his ribs, not used to receiving such heavy words. "You think it's too soon for sex but not too soon for that?"

Alfred seemed offended. "Well, I mean, obviously my feelings for you are pretty strong if my population has been so swayed by them! I've been fighting the urge to confess to you this whole trip, and for months before that! If I wasn't so busy with the election, I'd have flown myself to Moscow the second I got back from Punta Cana and told you."

"Ever since that last night of the conference, then? For that long?"

He nodded. "That long."

They still were joined by their hands, but Ivan couldn't meet his gaze. He felt ashamed. Here his best friend was before him, so confident in the strength of his love. And yet, Ivan couldn't bring himself to repeat the sentiment. Sure, he cared about Alfred, extraordinarily so. He would stop at nothing to keep the other safe and happy. But was it love? Or just a deep attraction?

"Dude, it's okay if you don't wanna say it back, you know. I know it may be a lot to take in all at once."

"I—I'm sorry, Alfred. I do wish to be with you. I do care for you immensely… But, I just don't know if my heart can handle such a thing. It's been so cold for so long." He grabbed his chest.

Alfred covered his hand with his own. "Well, it's not just your heart, you know, mine's here for you too. It was your heart, your care, really, that brought mine back to life. He's a lot more capable than you give him credit for."

"Then perhaps there is a chance. I would like to take a walk by myself, do you mind?"

"Not at all. I'll be at the front when you're done." He stood, helping Ivan to his feet. He offered the Russian one last peck and a quick smile before departing.

Ivan stood still for a few moments, appreciating the soft breeze passing through the yard. He was happy, he realized, but also afraid. He heard someone approaching from behind, and turned, expecting Alfred.

Instead it was a short, alien.

"Hello again, Tony," he sighed. "What are you doing here? Eavesdropping, I'm sure."

"Of course, it's a hobby. So, what are you doing standing around here and not ravishing my best friend in his car?"

"If you heard everything, surely you know. I do not love him, I don't think. I don't even think I can love him. And as for sex, that will have to wait. Not that I mind all that much. I know it's important to him."

"I wish he hadn't told you so early. Surely in another year you would've been more receptive."

Ivan shook his head. "It's not just my people's perceptions, but it's also my heart itself. I don't have as much faith in it as Alfred does." His voice wavered, and another thought crossed his mind. "I also doubt Alfred's feelings. He's always been rather headstrong and rebellious. Loving me is something only a fool could do. We've only been close for a year now, and yet he claims this. Perhaps it is only because I helped him heal, or because I held his heart by my own. If it had been anyone else, would he have felt the same for them? It's all a bit too good to be true, and in my case, those things usually end up being false."

"I understand. Well, I can't help you with your self-doubting, but I can assure you that Al is genuine."

"Of course you'd say that, you're his wingman, are you not?"

"It's more than that. Look, you know about his remaining memories. I've been debating whether or not to give them to him, but I think you should look at them, first. Understand where he's coming from a bit."

Ivan shrugged. "If you think it'll help, then alright."

Tony held up a blue orb, this one larger than the ones Ivan had seen previously. "This may be a bit of a rush, big guy, but you can handle it, I'm sure. Here goes nothing," with a sudden surge in strength, he forced the memories into Ivan's head, catching the large nation before he fell.

* * *

 **a/n: omg i'm back friends! and look! we've finally gotten to le romance! how exciting! i thought i'd get to the memories this chapter but as usual i rambled on too long beforehand.**

 **i hope you enjoyed! feel free to drop a review if you're feeling generous :D**

 **^J^**


	18. Chapter 18

_He looked up, grinning at his amazing big brother._

 _"Engwand?"_

 _"Yes, boy?" the other man had a fond look, a gaze that only his young charge was lucky enough to receive from the usually harsh brit._

 _"Where are we going?" He was happy. It wasn't often that England took him far beyond his little cottage. Usually they'd spend their days there, or out on short walks. But today he was going all the way to the ocean! They were meeting someone, apparently. He'd been so lonely, England's trips were lasting longer and longer, it seemed. He tried to befriend the humans in the neighboring town, but they always treated him like a kid. The ones who were nice to him… he didn't know why, but they aged so much quicker than him! His dear friend Davie… he'd forgotten Alfred first, but then he grew old and passed away. It made Alfred sad, and he didn't understand it._

"What is this?" Ivan thought to himself. He was seeing everything from Alfred's perspective, and even the boy's thoughts flowed through him, pure and simple with his childlike innocence.

 **"Well, you're in Alfred's head now, obviously. You see what he sees, feel what he feels, think what he thinks."** Tony's voice cut in.

"And why are you here?"

" **I'm still physically connected to the orb. I'm here for moral support. Now shut up and watch the show. I haven't seen kid Alfred in forever!"** he sighed.

With a bit of effort, Ivan was no longer in Alfred's head, but outside the scene, seemingly floating beside a much younger America. He smiled, the boy was admittedly adorable. Still, he felt as Alfred felt, nervous, sad, happy, all at once. He remembered just how quickly Alfred's heart tended to flit from emotion to emotion, but due to his youth, these feelings were more raw.

 _England and his American Colonies chatted on their journey. The younger one, not yet a nation but brimming with potential, tended to hold his brother's hand, though he wasn't afraid to let go and wander when he saw an interesting plant or animal._

 _Finally he could smell the ocean, and he dashed forward._

 _"Alfred, wait!" England yelled._

 _Alfred ran on, stopping just before the dock. Several large ships obscured the horizon, and he gawked. How can such big things exist? He wondered, delighted. I want buildings just as big, maybe bigger! Bigger is better! So much room to play! He giggled to himself._

 _Arthur finally caught up to him. "Alfred, don't go running off. You have to be more careful. Plus we're meeting someone important, and I'd rather you not encounter him alone."_

 _"Why not?"_

 _"He's like you and I, a personification. And he's a bit scary."_

 _"If he's like my big brother, then I know he'll be nice!" He smiled._

 _England walked down the docks, turning onto the largest of the fleet. "Alright, I'll let you meet him briefly, but then I need to talk with him in private, alright?"_

 _"Okey dokey!"_

 _England smiled, ruffling the child's hair. He straightened his coat, then knocked on the captain's door._

 _A tall man answered—Alfred had been sucking his thumb, though on seeing the giant before him he dropped the appendage and stared openly._

 _"Hello, Russia. Before we get started, I'd like you to meet my young charge, the American Colonies."_

 _The man kneeled down. "Privet, young one. It is fortunate you did not inherit your caretaker's fearsome brows!"_

 _Arthur glared. "Can it, ruskie."_

 _"Hi!" the boy finally spoke. "I'm America!"_

 _England sighed. "You're the Colonies."_

 _"I go by Alfwed! You're huge!"_

 _Russia chuckled. "I suppose if you've only ever met the tiny island nation then I'd look pretty big."_

 _"Where are you from? Is everyone there as big as you? Your eyes are so pretty! How did you build such big ships? Are you going to stay here for long? Will you play with me?" Alfred was jumping up and down, waving his arms. Russia grabbed him under his arms and hoisted him up, standing at his full height. The boy screamed with joy, feeling like he was flying._

 _"So many questions. It is refreshing to see one of us so young and happy. You are taking good care of him, England?"_

 _"Of course, idiot."_

 _Russia thought the boy rather handsome. He was sure he'd give England a hard time in the coming years. Such bright eyes and a hopeful face… there was no way he'd stay tamed for long._

 _"Mister!" the boy wiggled in the hold "You didn't answer me!"_

 _"Oh? I apologize. Well, I am Russia, so I come from that land. It's very far away from you. I won't be here long, I only needed to drop off some things and speak with England."_

 _The boy frowned. "So you won't be my friend?"_

 _"Of course we can be friends. But it'll be a while before I see you again."_

 _"Next time you do I'll be just as big as you! I'm gonna grow so big I'll touch the sky like you!"_

 _England was smitten by the cuteness. Russia set the boy down._

 _"I look forward to seeing your growth. Now, if you'll excuse us, we need to start our meeting. I don't intend to stay long." He spoke in some strange language, and a man came over. He looked at the boy, who smiled, though the man only looked annoyed. Russia and England retreated into the office, leaving Alfred with the man._

 _"Can we play?"_

 _The man responded in the foreign tongue._

 _"Well, I'm gonna run to the beach so get ready."_

 _He stared blankly. True to his word, Alfred darted from the boat, not stopping till his bare feet met the sand. He plopped down, placing his feet where the water could barely lap at them. A cursing Russian crewman joined him soon after, eyeing the boy mistrustfully._

 _That Russia was so pretty! Alfred thought. And so big. He had just come to the conclusion that bigger was better. That must mean the nation was the best! But, how could anyone be stronger or better than England? England was Alfred's entire life. Even when his people wanted to make some decisions on their own, he couldn't. England's boss was much more influential than his own. But that was okay, since England took care of him. It was only natural._

 _He wondered more and more about the strange nation. Even when England returned and the ships sailed to their homes, Alfred found himself wishing that he was on those boats, visiting the new lands and learning more about the huge man. England wasn't very helpful, only giving him very basic information about him, and he wasn't too complimentary._

 _"When I grow up, I wanna be just like him!"_

 _"Er, that may not be best."_

 _"Why not?"_

 _"He's a bit scary, and doesn't have many friends. He's too power-hungry if you ask me. Always taking things that aren't his to take."_

Ivan glared at the jingoist nation, noting the irony in his words.

 _"He seems nice! And so pretty! I want to play with him and visit his home and introduce him to my bunny and teach him how to ride horses! I wuv him!"_

 _Arthur laughed. "Silly boy, you must've stumbled upon those novels France left. Nations don't really do love. Besides you're much too young to even be attracted to him."_

 _"Oh… well, will I ever see him again?"_

 _"I'm sure you will. Nations tend to become very familiar. When you're older I can take you to see him."_

 _"Can't I go on my own?"_

 _"Of course not! You're my dependent. You can only visit other nations when I'm with you."_

 _"Engwand, are we married?"_

 _The man spit out his tea. "What gave you that idea?"_

 _"Well, you won't let me visit anyone else and I depend on you for everything… you're like my husband!"_

 _"Don't be silly, Alfred. You're a personification in your own right. I'm just looking out for you till you're grown."_

 _"Okay… when I'm older can I get married?"_

 _"Sure thing, Alfred."_

 _"Good! Maybe I'll marry you! Or Russia! Or Canada! I haven't seen him in a while."_

 _"Who?"_

 _"My brother! I bet he'd like Ivan. Can you tell me more about his land?"_

 _England sighed. "Here, let me just give you a book, okay? It'd be easier, and I'm too tired from work. We should get to bed soon."_

 _"Okay! And tomorrow we'll play?"_

 _"You know I have to go home, Alfred." Arthur stood, stretching slightly. He grabbed the frowning boy's hand and led him to the bedroom. They settled in for the night, and soon both were asleep._

 _When England was gone, Alfred would read one of his many books or play outside. He grew quickly, both in body and mind. He learned a lot about Russia, and grew more and more enchanted by the nation he met so briefly. Still, he couldn't forget the man's unique beauty. Years passed and his obsession developed into a spirited crush. But, he wasn't allowed to talk to other nations. It wasn't fair, he thought. England was so possessive of him!_

 _The next time England visited, Alfred had sprouted into a young man. The older nation was startled at the sudden gain of height, but he wasn't surprised._

 _Alfred crushed him in a hug, bringing both of them down to the ground. Of course, he'd been able to do so even when young, so it wasn't a new thing. The weight was a bit much, however, and England struggled to free himself from the hold!_

 _"England!" he could finally pronounce the word correctly. "You're back! I'm so happy! How long are you here for?"_

 _"Just a few days. I need to change some of the laws governing the colonists."_

 _"That's great! You know, I've been reading some of my papers and books… the colonists are a bit upset. Hear me out. See, we follow all your rules that you give us, but some of them don't make much sense over here. We live differently from you, and I was thinking that maybe we could control things a bit more."_

 _"What do you mean?"_

 _"Well, you're just so busy and all, you don't really have time for me. Don't look guilty, I understand. And I'm bigger now. Maybe I can start looking out for myself more! If you let me talk to other nations, I could make friends. Russia already said he'd be my friend—"_

 _"Have you been talking to him?"_

 _"Ah, well, I sent him a letter. He only responded today. But, he said he'd be more than happy to help me—"_

 _"Don't be foolish, Alfred! These other nations… they'll only take advantage of you!"_

 _"How do you mean? If we're friends—"_

 _"It's more complicated than that. Look, Alfred, you're a handsome, young nation. You have a lot of resources to offer, and many people have tried to take you for themselves. But you're mine. I've protected you all along. You just need to trust me. If I let you do things on your own, the others would jump at the chance to invade you. I can't let that happen."_

 _"But, Russia said—"_

 _"To hell with him. He's the worst of them all. He is the cruelest among us, and he's mastered killing in his centuries of life. His friends and neighbors hate him, Alfred. Why are you still so fascinated with him?"_

 _He shrugged. "I still think he's nice. But, if you really think it's best for me…" The words were lost as England, sensing the boy's hesitation, crashed their lips together._

 _Alfred's eyes widened. He was confused. They were brothers, he thought. And two men? Wasn't this wrong? Arthur pulled away when the other didn't respond._

 _"Er, I'm sorry Alfred."_

 _"No, it's okay. I was just confused. What do you mean by that? Do you like me?"_

 _"Of course I like you, Alfred. You belong to me. Please… just… stick with me. I don't know what I'd do if anyone hurt you. I'll protect you."_

 _This time it was Alfred who initiated the kiss. "Okay, Arthur. I will."_

 _And so England passed his new laws with little resistance. Still, not everyone was happy, and Alfred was torn in separate directions. He and England maintained this new relationship, and he was convinced of their love. His people weren't happy, however, and he still kept up a formal correspondence with other nations, among them Russia, France, and Prussia._

 _Then the Revolution came, a steadily building wave that finally crashed around him. He was happy, but scared. The way England looked at him hurt, but he knew it was for the best. England was a strong nation. Surely he wouldn't want to be with a dependent like him. He deserved to be with someone else just as strong._

 _In addition, Alfred yearned for companions that weren't his lover. The few nations he wrote were a welcome change, and they even visited and helped him during his war. He finally saw Russia again, and the other smiled on seeing his growth as a nation. Alfred had faith that in the end he and England would be stronger together, but then England became ruthless._

 _He was the last person Alfred ever expected would hurt him, so it burned all the more._

 _In the end he won his freedom, but he lost his love. He smiled through it all, though, because he now knew that England hadn't truly loved him. What kind of lover would hold the other back in such a way? Alfred was a nation built by refugees in search of opportunity and freedom, and if Arthur couldn't accept that about him, then they weren't meant to be. He had plenty other friends who wanted him to thrive, the most notable of which was Russia._

 _The two remained close through the next century, though Alfred was limited in his international dealings due to his several wars, as was Russia. Each letter only reignited Alfred's long-time crush on the other, and he found himself using the word 'love' more and more often, and his people responded in kind, romanticizing the unknown nation and other similarly exotic lands. He commissioned an artist to make a pair of delicate porcelain dolls when he'd stumbled upon a literal landmine of gems and precious stone in his wanderings. The man was pleased to work with such fine materials, but refused the project unless the subject was worthy. When Alfred described to him in precise detail the exquisite beauty of the main, angelic ballerina, how could he say no? Alfred was hesitant to give the gifts or even to voice his thoughts after his ordeal with England. Perhaps he didn't quite understand love as a proper nation, he thought, and so he thought it best to keep both hidden. The dolls collected dust in his home, and the artist went on to craft other beautiful works, though those were his pride._

 _Still, with every new city or invention, Alfred would send word of it to Russia—Ivan now—and the other would respond in kind. They were on good terms, and would even visit each other outside of diplomatic endeavors. They comforted each other when their bosses died or their land experienced hardship. They were unwavering pillars of support for the other, though neither would hide the other's light from the rest of the world. Alfred knew Ivan had his other friends in the East, and Ivan knew America's people preferred him to work with other, less foreign nations._

Ivan saw his New York visit play out once more, though this time feeling the confusion and elation of Alfred. So caught up in the many memories, he was amazed at the volume of interactions they had shared. He had forgotten so many of them, in all honesty, and with each new clip he found himself admiring Alfred's resolve. Could it be possible for one to yearn for so long and not feel bitterness for the other? He couldn't believe so, and knowing that their Cold War memories were on the horizon filled him with more doubts.

 _After the World Wars, or more monumentally in Alfred's eyes, their kiss, Alfred and Ivan were still close, though Ivan was drifting. His people were scared and angry, and acted against him. They hurt him, and he returned the favor. Alfred wasn't sure how to react, and any letter he sent was returned, never opened. He missed the nation he'd grown to love, and so he flew to Moscow to confront him._

 _Ivan's home was in poor condition, the door no long able to lock. The wood featured dozens of holes from bullet spray, so it was cold inside. Alfred stepped over the sparse, broken furniture. He assumed they had been torn apart for firewood._

 _Ivan was sitting in his study, nursing a bottle of vodka to fight the cold. He glanced at his guest, dull eyes barely acknowledging him._

 _"Ivan? What can I do? What do you need?" Alfred kneeled right beside the other, clutching his free hand. Ivan didn't even pull away._

 _"Get out of my house, for one. Did you come to gloat, capitalist scum?"_

 _"Of course not," Alfred frowned. "Why are you mad at me? I though the hatred was only between our people. We're friends, remember?"_

 _He chuckled. "As if I'd be so fortunate as to be friends with the Golden Nation of the world. What's your secret, Alfred? Why is everyone so fascinated by you? Don't they see how revolting you are? How empty your promises are?" He gulped his vodka. "You are nothing more than a disgusting pig. You won't be happy till you swallow up every country, will you? How is the world big enough for your ego?"_

 _"Ivan… why are you saying these thing?" The young nation had tears in his eyes. "This is just your boss speaking, tell me you don't really—"_

 _"Think this? Of course I do. Haven't you learned yet? It is our will that forms our bosses. I hate you, America. I want you out of my house, and out of my people's heads. Everything about you is what's wrong with the world. You're what happens when young idiots take control of things. We should've let England subdue you as he may. You've only gotten this far on the backs of others, trampling them to get to the top."_

 _A sharp slap sounded, and Russia clutched his cheek._

 _"How dare you! Ivan, please! You're not acting yourself. Come back to me," Alfred grabbed the other's face, surprisingly gentle. He rubbed circles on the other's cheeks, his tears flowing freely now. "Ivan, what did they do to you?"_

 _Ivan was silent._

 _Alfred inched forward, and soon his lips were on Ivan's. He covered the other's face with light kisses, paying special attention to the reddening mark where his hand had struck._

 _"Ivan, please… you need to snap out of this. You can't leave me now. I love you. I'll do whatever it takes for you to heal, just don't shut me out."_

 _Ivan's body finally responded, and he clocked the other on the jaw with his empty bottle. Alfred reeled back, rubbing at the spot from his position on the ground. Ivan spat toward his face._

 _"You dare touch me with your filthy, gay lips? No wonder you're so quick to be admired. Surely you've bedded every nation on earth, even the men. Your government is just as perverse with the lies they preach. What don't you understand, Alfred? I hate you. I never want to see you again."_

 _Alfred stood up, eyeing the other. His tears still fell, and he wasn't ashamed of them. "Fine, Ivan, I'll leave. There's no reason for all this, but if it's what you want, then fine. I still love you, though. My government forbids it, and my people are afraid. But we'll be okay. I know it." He choked back one last sob and left, leaving Ivan and Russia far behind him for decades._

 _Even during the Cold War, Alfred thought of Ivan in a positive light. When he'd see him at meetings, he couldn't help but admire how handsome he was. He'd avoid the other, embarrassed by his lustful thoughts. It was during this time that he sought out Greece to teach him about love between men, and in learning he allowed Ivan to be his muse._

 _It was Ivan that inspired Alfred's blues period, and the mournful jazzy tunes, too. He was so pained by their last conversation that he tried to forget with drug-filled concerts for years, but that didn't help. No number of wars near the other could distract him, no enemies or friendships could fill him with passion comparable to what he felt for Ivan. Escaping the Earth wasn't even an option, as Ivan was up in space with him, taunting him with his slurs. Of course, Alfred wasn't free from guilt of needless propaganda against the other, but those words and posters pained him deeply each time they left his mouth. He dwelled on Russia, and his people interpreted this as fear and paranoia, thus the negative sentiment perpetuated among them._

 _Even after Ivan was freed from his cruel regime, he was distant. The two skirted around each other, even though Alfred was ready for their relationship to resume. But it was as if Ivan didn't remember their friendship, or merely didn't care. And so Alfred grew closer to Kiku, who had long since forgotten about their own painful past. It was a comfort to regain him as a friend, but he found himself during the relationship wishing another nation could come back to him._

 _And finally, they were talking, but begrudgingly. They were still set upon the stage as rivals, but Alfred had no interest in beating the other. He wanted to grow on his own, do his own thing. That's how he always had been._

 _When he was attacked, things changed, and he entrenched himself in the world stage once more. Everyone hated him, it seemed, thought him idiotic for his meddling, but he had people to protect, and he thought it was the best way. Every meeting, Russia would not meet his gaze except to insult him further, and he grew more and more disillusioned with the thought of their reunion. He had had enough, and he finally found help from Tony, who offered him the ultimate solution, more potent than drugs and alcohol and self-harm._

Again, Ivan saw the memory of Tony helping Alfred to forget. He was shocked. The memories of avoidance for the past two decades in his own perspective were clear, but before then, it was a blur. Seeing the conversation that had started their downward spiral play out was painful, and his heart mourned for Alfred. How could he hurt someone he loved in that way?

He started. _Loved?_

And then he smiled.

How could he have been so blind? Here he thought his heart wasn't ready for love, that this was too sudden. But Alfred had been warming him from centuries now. Sure, they froze the world, held knives at each other's throats for a time, and he hadn't been able to remember the extent of their friendship till now. But it all made sense, all those gifts and letters he'd left to rot in his basement from years past, how he hated anyone speaking against or hurting the other, how he yearned for warm, sunny coastlines and expansive country roads and towering cities in his land because he so admired them in another's. And those priceless figurines, almost two centuries old, preserved by a nation who had long since forgotten them because of love…

Ivan had thought that those were the most thoughtful gifts he'd ever received, but they paled in comparison to years of love and devotion from the young nation. He seemed to have everything, and yet all along he'd been denied that which he wanted most. He was foolhardy and obsessive and irrational and greedy. But when those things were turned toward loving another, they were no longer such offensive traits; in fact, why everyone didn't love in that why was a mystery to him. Anyone else would probably be intimidated by the seemingly psychotic devotion, but Ivan was far from sane himself. For them, it worked.

It was almost humbling to see just how far Alfred would go for him, and for once in his Iife, Ivan found himself proud of who he was. He knew not many people liked him, he knew he had his cruel and sad history, but through it all, Alfred, the most beautiful nation in the world to him, loved him. Surely it wasn't wrong then for him to love himself, too? And in doing so, he could grow to love Alfred.

He shook his head. That wasn't necessary, as he already loved Alfred. It was this love that would lead to his own self-love.

He was back in the meadow, laying on the too-green grass in the middle of the desert. Tony was near, watching expectantly.

"You okay? That may have been a lot all at once."

Ivan was grinning, a chilling sight for most, but welcome in Tony's eyes. He knew that the idiot had finally figured it out. "I love him."

"Well, telling me won't help you two at all, will it? Before you go, though, I do have to warn you. Alfred needs these memories just as much as the others. He needs to know the truth about what set him back so much."

Ivan frowned. "But, what if he grows to resent me when he knows? We can finally be happy the way he wants us to be. If he saw how awful I was to him…"

Tony shook his head. "You really think that boy can ever stop? Even without knowing all this, in only a week of you caring for him, he rediscovered the truth. Go to him. Go crazy! Just be sure to use protection."

With a nod, Ivan stood then left the alien behind.

He found Alfred in the foyer, sitting on a bench while browsing a pamphlet about mulch. He heard Ivan before he saw him, so stood to meet him.

"Did you know that potash is vital to keeping plants warm, and mulch is key to warming the land too—"

"I love you, Alfred."

He grinned. "Not just for my mulch facts, I presume?"

"No," he breathed the word, reaching out to grab the other. He cupped the other's cheek, memorizing the other's softly smiling face—an unnecessary endeavor, as he already knew the other's look perfectly. In a quick movement, his lips were on Alfred's, his arms pulling him in as close as possible. It was a rough embrace, but Alfred was strong enough to respond in kind. As they deepened the kiss, Alfred gasped. Ivan assumed it was his doing so smirked, sliding his tongue past the others mouth. Alfred pulled away, hyperventilating.

"What's wrong?" Ivan asked, fearful that he'd done something wrong.

"I… I remember everything. About us…" he returned Ivan's intent gaze. "You were a total dick."

"I'm sorry. I was heartless, quite literally. I understand if—"

"Stop that thought, dummy. I love you. Even with all the bad, even without all the good. Tony and I may have really messed up the memories in my head. But my heart? Those memories remained, even if I didn't know it. There's nothing I could've done to run away from them short of cutting my heart out completely." One lone tear escaped, flowing down his cheek. Ivan wiped it away.

"Why are you sad, then?"

"You gotta admit, it was a sad time. If I had been brave and confessed long ago, we could've been happy. Maybe you wouldn't have been lost to the world for so long…"

"You can't blame yourself. Some things have to happen."

"You're right." He grinned. "So now, here we are lyobov moya (my love). Everything's on the table… How about you and I go take advantage of that honeymoon suite?"

* * *

On entering the car, Alfred quickly changed his mind, suddenly shy. He admitted aloud that it was in part due to nerves, but he also wanted Ivan to enjoy the rest of that day's plans. They drove further outside the city and had their picnic at a dusty truck stop, then continued to their Grand Canyon tour. At the close, they stood at a high viewpoint, left alone by the other guests thanks to Ivan's glaring. Alfred didn't mind at all, as it allowed him freedom to share in a long embrace with his new… lover? That felt odd to say… boyfriend also seemed to0o juvenile. Plus, he was American, so was always free! He was confusing himself, but a sudden strong suction on his bottom lip refocused him.

To any observer, and to the many observers they encountered the rest of the day, the pair appeared absolutely, sickeningly in love. But, despite all the public foreplay, by the time they were back in their hotel, they were content to fall asleep in each other's arms, so exhausted from the day's activities.

They could barely leave bed the next morning, choosing instead to order room service directly to them and talk. It was odd, Ivan thought. He was more than ready to jump Alfred at the nearest opportunity, hell, he'd even be fine with submitting to Alfred for their first time together, if it would mean the other would move past teasing him so. And yet, though he didn't voice it and though he too was ready for the next step, Alfred was hesitant. He'd only ever slept with Greece as a nation, and before then he'd only been with human women who propositioned him. Surely it'd be different with Ivan, with someone he loved. How could he live up to such expectations with someone who was so much older and more experienced?

Ivan didn't mind the waiting, however. The way he saw it, Alfred had waited for 200 years for his love to be reciprocated, and so he could show some restraint when it came to the physical aspect.

Late in the afternoon, cuddled together and talking about their favorite, old bands—"I'd sooner die than tell Arthur that I have always adored The Beatles"—Alfred's phone rang. With a sigh, he answered, seeing that it was his boss.

"Yo, what's up?" He raised a brow when Ivan got a mischievous look in his eye. While the American nodded along to whatever his boss was saying, Ivan took to sucking on his neck none too quietly. Alfred struggled to keep his breathing even, but he lost the game when he let out a low whine. Luckily, the timing was such that his boss figured he was just complaining about what he'd just said.

"Uh-huh, alright sir! Will do, gotta go bye!" with that he hung up. "Dude… that could've been bad. I haven't even told my boss yet about you."

"Why does he have to know?"

"Well, if we're dating, there's gonna be a change in the way our politics work out, you know. New sister cities will arise, more travel will happen between our lands. There'll be a cultural exchange, more schools here will be offering Russian courses… Stuff like that. It's good for him to be prepared. Of course, he'll be just fine with it. I don't know about you, but I don't intend on keeping us a secret. I'm over hiding things."

"Da, then I will have to tell my boss as well."

"Will he be okay with it?"

He shrugged. "I'm sure he will see that it is for the best, for if he denies me I will kill him."

"Aw, you'd do that for me?"

"I would kill all my bosses for you."

Alfred blushed. "Oh stop it, you. The only people I'm nervous about telling are the UPC guys. I don't want to like alienate the other members, you know? Oh, and Arthur will be such a pain. I think he's feared this happening since I was his colony."

"I'm sure it'll be nothing in comparison to telling Belarus. I'd sleep with a gun if I were you."

Alfred reached back, grabbing a pistol from behind his pillow. "I always do!"

"Has that been there the whole time?"

"Hey Ivan!" he ignored the question.

"What?"

"Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?" his eyebrows waggled.

"I don't understand… You have the gun, and these pajamas have no pockets, although I am happy to see you."

"Dude! It was a pick-up line!"

"Ah, but you do not need to pick me up, as I am already yours."

"That was too cute." Alfred leaned forward to kiss him. "You're so beautiful."

Ivan covered his face with his scarf. "Don't say things like that."

"Why not? It's true! I love everything about you, and you always look so gorgeous. Even now when you're all embarrassed!"

"You're much too liberal with your words."

"It would kill some of my countrymen to hear you say that."

"What did your boss want?" Russia asked, eager to change the subject.

"Oh yeah. Apparently some of my senators aren't too thrilled about the treaty. It's all stupid reasons, none having to deal with you. They're mainly concerned that I'll stop my operations within NATO and other organizations." He pouted. "Now I have to go to all the disagreeing states and work my magic on them, hoping that their influence will be enough to change some minds."

Ivan did not envy the workload, though he did imagine that it would be nice to have so many family members to visit so easily.

"When do you have to go?"

"As soon as possible if we want this thing to get ratified quickly. Our people can only hide it from the other nations for so long, and if it gets leaked and others outside our group oppose it, it may spook the backers." He sighed, throwing his arms over his face in a dramatic fashion. "And so, our romantic weekend together ends. What new adventures lie on the horizon for our heroes in love?"

"What are you doing?"

"Narrating, of course. Now that you're a main character, you get to hear it too. Join us next time as Ivan and Alfred reveal their love to the world, starring a freaked out Brit, a murderous younger sister, and the world's hottest power couple."

"Are you going to make me regret dating you only a day after we've started?" Russia rolled his eyes.

"Come on, it's great! _Radioactive Love_ has been a total hit in the theater of my mind for decades, apparently! I'd forgotten all about it, of course, but now I'm binge-remembering all sixty-three seasons."

"Please don't give things such stupid names."

"It's not stupid, cuddle cakes. It's l'amour."

"Don't call me that."

He pouted. "Why not? You're cuddly and delicious, it's appropriate."

"How can you say such sentimental things so easily?"

"I'm an affectionate guy. You'll get used to it, love muffin."

"Is every name going to be food based?"

"Most likely, you little cutie pie."

"I'm breaking up with you, Fredka."

He gasped. "But Vanya! Sugar lips, how could you?"

For the next hour they debated the merits of silly pet names, an epic debate that would've shamed any politician's attempts at argument over the last two centuries. In the end, despite his original conviction that Alfred should not be so liberal with the names and endearments, Alfred's silver tongue worked its magic and Ivan was beaten back into a corner. He sighed, defeated.

"Whatever. I will not participate in your odd behavior, but I'll stop opposing it."

Alfred cheered. "Thank you for submitting, kukolka! (doll)"

He groaned. "That's even worse than the food names."

"But, lamb chop… you said you wouldn't complain anymore!"

"Can't you just stick with Vanya?"

"Well, of course I love Ivan and all forms of the name, but they don't encompass everything I love about you! Lyubb-lyu tebya vsem sertsem, vsey dushoyu… (I love you with all my heart, with all my soul), and the myriad words I use are just the tip of the iceberg!"

Russia was red, but smiling at the sweet words. Given his past relationships, many assumed he was always a cold and dominating type, incapable of sentiment. But, he had a romantic streak, and his people valued love and passion as well, so while at first he was a bit uncomfortable with the American's loving loquaciousness, he was beginning to warm up to the words more and more. He wasn't the type to express his love verbally as much, so he thanked the other with soft touches and kisses instead.

Forced apart by politics, the pair separated after a quick snack, with Ivan returning to Moscow and Alfred to Texas in order to sway the large state. Ivan was convinced that a singularly-focused Alfred could persuade a starving man to give away their last dollar to a rich man, so he had no doubts that he would be successful. He was annoyed that the senators were being so difficult in delaying their union, and part of him feared that Alfred's people wouldn't approve of it at all.

After a quick call to make sure that his boss would be free when he arrived, Russia boarded his plane that had been flown to Las Vegas from California, settling in for the long flight. He got some work done, though spent a large part of the time chatting with his older sister. Due to his recent good behavior, their nations were on better terms. For hours they talked about anything and everything, until finally he told her about his and Alfred's new relationship.

Ukraine was delighted, judging by her squeal. "Oh, Vanya, I am so happy for you! To think such a loving union can come between old enemies, it is beautiful, da? So much our way of doing things, love strengthened by pain and sorrow and hate but also joy and redemption!"

He chuckled, "I never mentioned love, sister." He had not said that word to her, but he didn't deny the truth of her statement.

"Da, but I can hear it in your voice! I know you too well, Vanya. Oh, I am so excited for how your land will change! Your bosses will not be able to resist the peoples' calls for friendship. Evan Natalya and I will have stronger ties with him, as we are your family."

"Really?"

"Da, and don't be surprised if more of Canada and England's people visit you."

"I didn't think it would work like that, actually."

"Of course it does! Just like with human relationships, the in-law relationships are very important!"

He didn't want to ask her how she knew such intricate details of nation-relationships, but he trusted her longer life experience anyway.

Despite her long life, even she could not give him a good answer for how he would best go about breaking the news to Belarus. Feeling even less reassured about that coming conversation thanks to Ukraine's sudden sobbing, he said goodbye to his sister, promising to spend some time with her during the upcoming conference.

On landing, his phone was beeping incessantly, his inbox flooded with silly and sweet messages from Alfred. He smiled, pocketing the phone and making a mental note to respond to them later. His driver was already loading his bags into the car, and soon they were on their way to his boss's office.

He was a bit early for the meeting, so by his boss's definition he was on time. Surprisingly, he wasn't nervous at all. He knew there was a possibility his boss wouldn't allow their relationship, but if that were to happen, Ivan was more than ready to take a stand against the man. For too long he had denied his own wants because of what his bosses thought was best.

He was surprised, then, when his boss actually smiled at the news. Apparently he was a fan of America's new boss, who had already stopped by for a brief visit during his busy first month in office, and saw that it would be favorable for his and Russia's plans. Of course, he also saw some opportunity for espionage, but Russia flat out refused. His boss wisely chose to drop the subject.

The closest Russia had ever had to a serious union with another nation was his on-again, off-again time with China. While they exchanged tactics and other such ideas, the cultural communication was lacking, which made sense knowing what he knew then about the deeper aspect of international relations. His boss was quite surprised to learn just how much may change within their own borders in the coming years, and, while a percentage of Russia's people already spoke English and found it advantageous outside of the country or for business dealings, his boss wasn't excited by the prospect of such an educational influx. Especially since they would be learning American English instead of the more-taught British English. When Ivan had mentioned the subtle differences to Alfred during their conversation in bed, the other had scoffed, belittling Arthur for always preaching the superiority of his dialect when American pronunciations were more rooted in history than the speech patterns of brits. He prided himself on his English, as he'd always held the same vernacular since his colony days, while Arthur's own accent would shift even between visits to America.

His boss coughed, noticing Ivan's dopey smile and realizing that he'd lost the nation. He then asked something that surprised Ivan further: he asked him if he was happy.

He blinked, but answered that yes, he was. His boss nodded, then dismissed him, bestowing his blessing and hopes for a happy union.

At his desk, Russia was cheerily responding to America's texts, memes, snapchats, and Vine tags—those last two America had helped him download. His own smartphone didn't support the "proper", as Alfred called them, versions of the applications, but Alfred had fiddled with the phone for not even ten minutes and given him ultimate access to any app he desired. It was always refreshing to see Alfred so carefree and happy. He often was, covering up his stress and sadness and anger with bright smiles. Ivan could finally tell which ones were fake, and he was sure Alfred could do the same with his.

In a day and age where they were both hated by others for merely existing as they thought best, they were still able to joke with each other and be happy. Ivan was warmed by not only the new love, but also the renewed friendship. He was admiring the figurines when his secretary knocked and entered.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Braginsky, sir. It's good to see you back and looking refreshed. Was your trip enjoyable?" It was the greatest volume of words he'd ever said to the nation. He set a latte fresh from Starbucks on his desk.

"It was, thank you… Artur is it?"

The man nodded, smiling. He was in a good mood, it seemed. And so was Russia.

"That's good to hear. I've yet to visit America myself, though soon I'll be visiting my girlfriend's—er, fiancée's—family in Pennsylvania.

"Congratulations," Ivan said. Who knew small talk could be so difficult? "Pennsylvania is nice, if I remember. I visited long ago. He's quite German, though," he said the last thing as if it was distasteful.

"'He'? Er, well, _it_ certainly looks nice from what I've seen in pictures. California also seems nice, was it warm?"

"Her house was rather warm, yes, though Mexico blasted the A/C frequently. And it was almost as tacky a display of wealth as America's own home. Though I suppose they pale in comparison to Singapore and Hong Kong's homes."

"…right. Well, if you don't need anything, sir, I'll be heading home. Oh, you also have a package at my desk, would you like it now?"

"Leaving so early? And yes, I'll take it."

"It's six p.m., sir. I'll bring it in, then." He left then returned, bearing a huge bouquet of red roses and sunflowers, a stuffed bear, and a box of chocolates. He arranged them neatly on Ivan's desk, procuring from his pocket a small white card which he handed to Ivan. He cleared his throat. "I was left with instructions to sing you the traditional American love song 'Earth Angel', sir, though I won't without your permission."

"It's alright, you may leave. I'll tell Alfred you gave a great performance."

With a nod and a wave, the secretary left. Russia was not as easy to speak with as America, he noted, though he supposed it was to be expected.

Russia opened the card, reading the looping script with ease.

"Vanya, I felt bad that I couldn't give you a traditional Valentine's Day present, so I hope you enjoy the gifts even if they're late. Thanks for making me the happiest nation in the world! Though we haven't become one yet, know that you're my number one, snicker-doodle. Expect a call soon for a much better rendition of 'Earth Angel', 'cause no offense to Artur but I'm betting his pipes can't do what mine can.

With love, your hero,

Alfred Foolishly in Love Jones"

* * *

 **a/n: such fluff. much lurv. wow.**

 **hehe hope you enjoyed! i'm predicting that the next chapter will be a bit fluffy as well, though there will be _something_ happening soon that won't be fluffy at all! i predict that i can do maybe... three or four more chapters? i'm not sure, but we are getting closer to the end!**

 **also i know nothing about foreign smartphone/app usage, so any info i present is the result of very brief google searches haha. and that bit about the british accent is true! i'm sure you all know about it by now. also, did you know 12% of russians speak english? how exciting. i feel like people always say americans are unworldly and don't care to learn other languages, but i have so many acquaintances that speak multiple! though, to be fair i come from a position of privilege in that i attend a top university and am myself rather aware of other cultures and thus hang out with people in the same boat. haha, i tend to not think much of american stereotypes, but then i catch myself doing something ridiculous like eating a whole box of mac and cheese while sipping from a liter bottle of coke and knocking back Nerds while on netflix. of course, i take great pride in my nationality, so i don't mind it all when my acts coincide with the more neutral/positive stereotypes.**

 **end ramble**

 **p.s. food based pet names are the best**


	19. Chapter 19

England wasn't a huge fan of travelling to the States, especially to any of Alfred's more western states. He was much more familiar with the first 13, of course, but he could even deal with some of the earlier additions. He was much less a fan of the likes of Oregon, Texas, Kentucky, and worst of all, _California_. He'd never admit it, but those states, found and gobbled up during Alfred's expansionist era, were a painful reminder to Arthur just how wild Alfred truly was. He thrived during his cowboy times, and rarely gave Arthur the time of day back then, he was so busy building tracks that sliced the plains and tearing into veins of yellow in the mountains.

But, he would never deny his former charge when he specifically reached out to him. Alfred was Arthur's weakness, Francis always liked to say, though his version of the words always had a bitter bite to it. Arthur thought nothing of the git's jealousy—it's not like they were exclusive. Sure, he thought they were for a while, and France had been so adamant about his "undying love" in the past century that he had convinced Arthur of just that. Despite the nation of love's endearing verse, they failed like most international relationships. France just couldn't resist the call of beautiful nations, and as a likeminded nation, Arthur was quick to forgive, even if it was with… what was his name? Oh, right, Canada.

England had looked the other way when he stumbled upon France chatting up a drunk Italy—and he did mean the both of them. It was in his nature, after all. He was a bit more insulted by Francis's flirting with Russia and China, even though those weren't reciprocated.

The only incident that managed to hurt Arthur was when he found Francis in bed with a woman. A human woman, at that. Francis laughed it off, but he'd had enough of the lying and cheating. Thankfully, the woman fled before witnessing the ensuing brawl, fueled by a passionate hate that ultimately ended in sex, as it often did between the pair.

After that incident, perhaps a year ago now, Arthur had refused any of France's calls or date requests. Francis had nothing to offer him anymore, it seemed, and he admitted to himself that he had nothing for the other. They weren't good together, their barbs hurt more than they ever had, and Arthur wasn't what Francis wanted. He could never be soft, or warm, or receptive like a foolish human, or be loving and compliant as a woman.

Their relationship had always been hit or miss, though, so this change didn't produce so much of a ripple on the world stage. They had been friends and then enemies and then friends again too long for such fights to affect the people too strongly.

He shrugged his shoulder bag, remembering their last conversation, from that morning actually. Alright, perhaps he'd lied—he still _occasionally_ gave into visiting France late at night when one or the other needed release.

Arthur had already been awake by seven, feeling only slightly hungover. Francis was worse for wear, and with a sore ass to boot, so he was quick to grumble when Arthur dared stir the bed. To make things worse, he was doing so to reach for his ridiculously loud phone, blasting an obnoxious American pop song.

"Hello?"

"Hey Artie!" Alfred's voice was loud enough that even Francis could hear it. He buried his face in the pillows in an effort to escape.

Arthur, far from sentimental for the frog, didn't even move into the hallway for the private call. "What the hell are you doing calling so early?"

He laughed, his signature guffaw. "Oh come on, you're always up early, even with hangovers! Where are you, London or Paris?"

"As if I'd be caught dead in that god-awful tourist trap full of old perverted men and stupid, easy women!" Francis glared slightly.

"So you're in Paris, then?"

"Fuck off!" Arthur yelled. Francis chuckled.

"Hey, is that your boy toy?"

Francis cursed in French, and Alfred responded in kind, laughing all the while. "You two are so cute! Anyway, I've got some fantastic news! Me and—" There was a slight rustling, and Alfred laughed. "Er, well, perhaps you should come over for a bit, it'd be better if I told you in person!"

"Well, I'll be at your place for the conference in a fortnight, can't it wait?"

"If by 'fortnight' you mean 'two weeks' as we say here in the 21st century, then no! It's super good news, and I want to let you know before anyone else. No offense, Francis."

France rolled over, groaning upon the realization that he would not be having any peace that morning. "Bonjour, Alfred. Unfortunately, Arthur is quite busy. His boss is working him to the bone these days in preparation for the conference."

Alfred pouted, "Aw, well, that's too bad. I guess it's fine, then. Maybe I could swing by your place on my way home?"

"Don't think of it, I have more than enough time to spare for you. I can catch the next flight out." Francis raised a brow but said nothing. "But, what do you mean by 'on your way home'? Where are you?"

"Sochi, but I'm heading back to California in—oh shit! I need to catch my flight. Luka, you fat ass cat, get off me!"

"Sochi? You're in Russia? What for?"

"Uh, business stuff. I'll explain later alright? Look, let's just meet at Cali's place, alright? There'll be a ride there for you, sound good?"

"Of course. See you soon, Alfred." He hung up, smiling slightly.

Francis snorted. "Oh, so you have time to go flying to America for your little brother, but barely agreed to one night with me?"

"It's different."

"How?"

"Well, obviously I'm not flying to have sex with him, for one! We actually have decent conversation, he and I."

"Ah yes, do go on about how much you love speaking on American culture."

"Oh come off it. Don't be acting jealous when you're the one who fucked everything up."

"As I've often said, I apologize that I misunderstood the nature of our relationship."

"Using the same excuse dozens of times doesn't speak well to your memory."

He rolled his eyes. "It was only sex, mon amour. But the way you treat Alfred, well, you may as well be the cheater."

"Excuse me? I have never cheated on you—"

"Only because Alfred was never receptive to you, as you fucked that up badly, non?"

"Shut up, that was centuries ago. We're past that."

"Are you, mon petit? I think not. After all these years, you're still in love with him."

Arthur was red, partly with anger but also from embarrassment. "That's ridiculous. I never loved him, he was just a foolish boy. Even he knows as much."

"Oui, at the time you were nothing more than a manipulative lover, I will admit. But after he became his own nation, that's when you realized how you'd missed your chance. You loved him all the more when he pushed away at every occasion."

"You're insane if you think that. What kind of idiot would love someone who outright despises them? Who insults them at every chance?"

"Is it not the way I've fallen for you?"

Arthur shook his head. "Don't compare what we have to what Alfred and I are."

"It is hard not to see the similarities. I am the nation of love, mon cher, and as such I see these patterns, the stories in people's lives, even if they don't."

"How can you claim to be such a love expert when your own relationships all fall to shit?"

"Do you think it possible for me to love you when you're still intent on this silly American dream?"

"What?"

"It has been decades, Arthur, and you've never said you loved me, no matter how many times I say it. I cannot make you happy when you still hold onto him."

Arthur bristled. "How dare you? After all this time, you still make such poor assumptions of me! You really think I've been hung up over Alfred, of all people, for this long?"

"Oui, I do. Even if you deny it, your people make it obvious. Your art, your lament-filled songs. You are miserable with me, or rather, without him. But, it hasn't been the whole time, I don't think. You're only just remembering, now that Alfred is showing his true colors. His true, darker self—it reminds you of him from before, doesn't it? When he barely spared your life in the rain that day he freed himself. Or the day he slaughtered hundreds of thousands with the flick of his wrist. It scares you, how he's grown, but excites you? I understand of course, you're proud of his strength.

"You must realize the contradiction, though. You want him to be the young boy, dependent on you, but also the powerful man who can hold you and protect you."

Arthur was packing his overnight bag. "You're a bloody, insensitive idiot, Francis. Of course you'd find a way to blame me for your actions."

Francis lit a cigarette, not caring that Arthur had been trying—and failing—to quit for decades now. "I'll be here when he rejects you. And I always will be."

"Shut it, trying to make us sound fated or something. You're fucked up, Francis, this is fucked up," he gestured vaguely. Without another word, Arthur left the hotel room, making his way to the covered drive where taxis were already waiting.

So it was that he was in Los Angeles, loading his few belongings into a limo bound for Malibu. He turned his phone on, letting it sit and take in the numerous messages and emails he'd received during his long flight. His hangover had been replaced with jet-lag even though he had slept plenty on the plane. When he pulled up to the impressive home an hour later, he was still mulling over Francis's words.

But, his thoughts vanished when Alfred came bounding out of the house, glomping him the second he left the car.

"Artie! I'm so happy to see you!" His boyish face was alight, shining like the stars, those in the sky and those in the big yet shallow cities America prided himself on. It brought Arthur back to simpler times, back when he'd started their fake relationship. He regretted leading Alfred on back then, he'd known that he'd broken his heart. But, he was ready to make amends.

Alfred's eyes, so close to his that they were his sky for a few moments.

He hated that Francis was right.

He hated his closeted romanticism, so cleverly hidden behind snark and prose.

He hated Adele, the queen that she was, for her soulful album that bespoke his rekindling flame.

He hated his sudden lack of self-control, he hated his conniving fingers that wrested Alfred closer to him by his hair, the sunbeams they had become.

He hated the kiss, that he enjoyed it, that he thirsted for it.

Above all, he hated the angry Russian who yanked him out from under Alfred and clocked him in the face.

When Arthur had reoriented himself, Ivan was there, a protective arm around Alfred, who looked rather confused.

"What the hell is _he_ doing here?" Arthur spat, rubbing the back of his hand against his mouth. He may be small, but he wasn't weak enough to fall from one blow.

"He's my guest. Dude, what was that for? I mean, I know I'm awesome and all, but yeesh, here in America smooches are for love interests only."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "That was the point, you idiot."

He quirked a brow. "Wait, you… you like me?"

Ivan looked slightly worried, his insecurities shining through the wonderful past few days he'd spent with Alfred in Russia.

"Obviously. Well, I suppose it wasn't all that obvious, since I didn't even know."

"But, you and Francis, you're in love…"

Arthur scoffed. "You never were bright about those kinds of words. That wasn't love. The git cheated on me regularly."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

Arthur shrugged. "It's no big deal. Alfred, I do care about you. I have for many years now. I know I made mistakes before, that I hurt you. But, I want you to give me a second chance."

Alfred pried himself from Russia's grasp, standing before Arthur. He smiled, but there were tears in his eyes. "I had wanted you to say this for so long. But, I don't, not anymore. The news I wanted to tell you… well, Ivan and I are together."

Arthur blinked. Everyone knew about their Cold War tension; he blushed. "Well, I don't need to know all about your sex life, I don't care—"

"No, we're dating. I love him. And he loves me."

Arthur's eyes darted between the pair. Ivan seemed to be smirking victoriously. "What… what do you mean?"

"I mean exactly what I said. I—I had no idea that you cared about me so much. But it doesn't change my feelings. I loved you long ago, Arthur, and you broke my heart. I was so sad for a while, but my new friends helped me rediscover my heart. Ivan… he was there for me when no one else was."

"But, you two hate each other. You almost ended the world over it!"

"We didn't, though. That's the way some things happen. We fell apart, but we ultimately fell back together." He smiled.

Arthur wanted to curse the gods for his luck. Why couldn't he and Alfred had fallen apart and then back into each other's arms? What made Russia special enough for him? Had he really hurt Alfred that badly years ago? Surely Ivan's years of icy resentment hurt worse?

"I can see you're trying to logic your way through this," Alfred chuckled. "But, my dear Sherlock, there's nothing to deduce. It makes perfect sense to us, though I'll admit to others it may seem weird. You and I, we wouldn't work. We're too different, both inside and out. Even if we break down the layers, there's nothing in common."

Arthur only chuckled, covering his discomfort with ease. "Well, I've been here all of ten minutes and managed to make an ass of myself. I don't imagine you still want my company? I believe we'd all be better off if I went home."

Alfred frowned. "You don't have to—"

"If he wants to go, Fredka," Ivan began.

Arthur held up a hand. "I'll leave. Francis wasn't lying when he said I was busy."

"Well, will you be alone? I can call France and let him know—"

"My pride has been wounded enough, the last thing I want to do is go crawling back to him, tail between my legs. Don't look so down, lad, I'm the one who got rejected here. I haven't visited Japan in a while, perhaps I'll swing by his place."

"Alright, if you insist. You can still talk to me, you know. We're still friends."

"Of course."

"Uh…." The limo driver had been watching the scene awkwardly. "So am I taking you back to the airport?"

"If you please, good sir. I'll allow myself a few hours at the bar before catching a red-eye to Japan, it seems!" Alfred didn't have time to say goodbye before Arthur had retreated into the car. The driver, hired for his promptness and discretion, took off.

A lone tear escaped Alfred's otherwise bright eye, which Ivan was quick to wipe away.

"Are you alright, Fredka?"

"I'm fine. It's surreal, though, the timing of it all. Are _you_ okay?"

"Of course, you chose me."

He shook his head. "Silly goose, it's not a choice." He threw his arms around Ivan's neck. "Now we have hella fried chicken to eat…"

"I'm sure we'll manage," he chuckled.

England, true to his word and thus sufficiently plastered, caught a late flight to Tokyo. Francis had left him numerous voicemails, begging him to come home and talk and not go getting drunk—"too late for that, dumb frog!" His boss was going to kill him for that month's phone bill, but he didn't give a damn. The queen always had his back when he was in a mood anyway, Prime Minister be damned. He placed a call to Japan who answered on the third ring.

After a poor explanation of his predicament—"drunk, heart-broken, and God damned America"—Kiku was able to surmise what had happened, and, having been accused of being hung up on Alfred by his currently ex-boyfriend, he sympathized with his old friend.

In a few hours, Arthur practically fell over on Kiku's steps. The quiet nation helped him to his feet and fed him, knowing his hangover would be deadly the next morning. Arthur sobered up enough to take a quick shower—Kiku was too polite to tell him that he smelled, but Arthur could guess after a night of drunken sex with France and two international flights that he was far from proper.

The shower did him a world of good, as he met with Kiku in the sitting room feeling better than ever. Kiku didn't ask questions, didn't pry; it wasn't his way. Both of them were mourning, and both were lonely, so it came as no surprise to either of them when they woke up in Kiku's bed together. Arthur hadn't slept with anyone other than Francis for a long time, but he wasn't upset with the change.

He did like Kiku, they were good friends. He smiled, nuzzling Kiku's sleek hair who groaned at the motion, but he snuggled closer to Arthur's chest.

* * *

Ivan had replaced Tony as Alfred's "Official Vomit Buddy", a title bestowed upon him with great ceremony by his lover, who was still often found throwing up in the mornings and after meals. As instructed, he stood by with a full bottle of water for Alfred to cleanse his mouth with, then handed him a hand towel after he brushed his teeth.

"Thanks dude. It means a lot that you're doing this. I know it's gross."

He shrugged. "I'm not so immature as that. I can handle bodily fluids." He eyed Alfred's exposed body, as both were only dressed in pajama pants due to the weather. He had grown familiar with the toned physique, so he could tell that the other was still losing weight at an alarming rate.

After their separation of a week, the pair had reunited in Sochi where Russia was dealing with advisors concerning tourism. Alfred had acted both as his lover and a critic of popular spots along the coast, giving some tips as to how Ivan could attract others. They spent that first night in each other's arms, neither wishing to upset the beautiful balance they had struck.

Still, biological equilibrium was only truly achieved in death, so with one as lively as Alfred, it was only a matter of time before the scales were tipped toward the more intimate side of things. Of course, Ivan was not in opposition to the proposition, and they finally sealed their union that second night, in his home, of all places.

The memory was a fond one, albeit slightly embarrassing in the way that all first sexual experiences with a new partner are. It was no collision of cosmic moments, no upturning of the whole world. Regardless, everything about it just felt right—minus the pain in Ivan's ass the next day—and through all the fumbles and laughs of the first night, they learned and grew more familiar with each other for the rest of the week. Despite his rough and clumsy movements and horribly unromantic utterances, Alfred proved to be the gentlest lover Ivan had ever encountered, making it his goal every night to convey his love for Ivan with the most pleasurable of touches. It was so uncharacteristic of the brash nation, but knowing his true nature, Ivan wasn't too surprised—and he was far from upset with the arrangement. His own heart yearned for genuinely kind embraces after having been so long exposed to those that were bitter and cold.

Alfred on the other hand preferred a bit of roughness when receiving, which Ivan was capable of doling out. Of course, when he wanted to talk about it, America provided him with a rather succinct psychological analysis of himself. Apparently he was quite proud of his nation's advances in that field and often took to self-diagnoses when he found himself and in turn his people questioning his motivations.

Their temporary cohabitation both in Sochi and Malibu had keyed Ivan into more about Alfred than just his sexual preferences. He'd discovered just how insecure the cocky boy really was, especially about his weight. When he'd first noted that Alfred was losing weight due to the throwing up, Alfred smiled and thanked him. Ivan hadn't intended it as a compliment, but he thought nothing of it. He only brought it up later when Alfred refused to eat his dinner, which led to Alfred holing himself up in the bathroom and throwing up his bile.

Ivan wasn't sure what to do, so he called Tony. The alien was little help, saying that Alfred would tell him if and when he was ready. So Ivan waited patiently, attempting to no avail to keep his cat Luka from jumping poor Hero every second—the cat couple was much more shameless in their courtship.

When Alfred emerged, he confessed to his ailments. He knew the risks of purging of course, knew what it did to his throat and stomach and that it usually led to weight gain. He'd tried starving himself, but ever since the Great Depression, hunger pangs drove him mad—"literally, when I'm hungry I could murder someone for a burger"—thus he resigned himself to the "other option". He presented his story with a mix of pride and shame, but he was so business-like about it that Ivan didn't pity him. He merely offered his support, knowing that when it came to mental disorders amid nations, treatment was much harder to come by than for humans. As Tony instructed, Ivan just let Alfred speak and didn't interrupt, only telling him that he loved him when he was done. Alfred smiled and agreed to eat his food, and the rest of the evening passed pleasantly.

The next day, the day before Alfred placed his call to Arthur, Ivan had to step out for work, leaving a snoozing Alfred to himself for the day. After a full day, he returned in time for dinner, but found that Alfred hadn't moved. He opened a window before settling next to the younger nation who was amusing himself with Minesweeper.

"Have you eaten?"

Alfred pointed to a bag of chips on the floor. He cursed on clicking on a mine then locked his phone. "I didn't feel too motivated today."

"How come?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. Sometimes you just don't feel like doing anything, you know? It's a good thing I was on vacation, sometimes it really throws off my schedule and my boss gets mad then I just feel… lower."

Russia, far from a power in psychiatric care, could recognize the symptoms well enough. "Did you talk to anyone today?"

"Didn't wanna. But, I'm glad you're here. Still feel a bit sluggish, though. How was your day?" He laid his head on Ivan's lap, too tired to lift his head.

"It was good. Productive. It was a nice day. If I had gotten back earlier, we could've gone for a walk. But, now it's a bit too cold."

Alfred nodded. "It looked nice through the window. Did you finally convince the dude that his ideas are bunk?"

"Yes, I managed it. I did copy your main points from your rant yesterday."

"Without the cussing, I hope?"

"I thought the cussing made it all the more convincing, actually."

Alfred groaned. "He already hates me, thinks I'm just some punk who's sleeping with the boss."

"Aren't you?"

"Hey now! Gross, he thinks I'm sleeping with Vlad. That's mad gay."

"So are you, Fredka."

"Very true. Now come over here and kiss me."

Ivan relented, then pulled away. "Maybe you should brush your teeth."

Alfred pouted, then pounced. He forced Ivan's face near his and exhaled deeply.

Ivan struggled to break free of the vice-like grip. "God, you're a child."

Alfred gasped. "I didn't realize I was dating a pedophile!" he cackled and let go, rolling off the bed for the bathroom. In addition to brushing his teeth, he also showered, and ended up throwing himself on top of Ivan in nothing but his towel, still wielding a healthy amount of clean water. The next day, they were traveling to Malibu, where they passed another loving week even after Arthur's confession.

In those days, Alfred also made his own discoveries about Ivan, namely the extreme alcoholism, nicotine addiction, and bipolar tendencies. It was nothing he'd never lived through himself, though, so he didn't think it odd. For nations, such vices were normal and nearly impossible to heal. Simple therapies or drugs did nothing for them as they bore the chemical imbalances of millions within them. There had to be reciprocal healing between both the personification and people for them to get better, and such an effort on that grand scale was unheard of.

All they could do was be there for one another. When Ivan felt like taking his pipe to an advisor who insulted America in front of him, Alfred could only wait for him to calm down, his strength allowing him to be near the tirade without fear. Likewise, when Alfred wished to hurt himself or someone else, Ivan was the only one close enough who could step in when necessary. They were both irreparably damaged by years of hatred from other nations and from themselves, but it was possible for them to function, and this was much easier now that they had the other supporting them without judgment.

They had hiccups, of course, butting heads when boundaries were crossed or feelings were hurt. Ivan thought Alfred pried too much, and Alfred thought Ivan didn't share enough. They sorted through such problems quickly, however. To them, after spending decades at war because of a lack of truthful communication, letting the good thing they had falter because of the same thing was idiotic. They'd rather deal with a few tense minutes or hours to preserve the relationship that had been centuries in the making.

A week later the pair had to catch a flight to D.C. so Alfred could prepare for the World Meeting. Ivan insisted on preparing breakfast in order to avoid another trip to McDonald's, and Alfred agreed to it on the condition that he be served in bed. He grew bored of waiting, however, so skipped downstairs to bother Ivan. He was successful in his endeavor, seducing the other away from the stove for some fooling around. Unfortunately—or fortunately, in this case—for Alfred, Ivan was very annoyed with the blond's distraction that ultimately led to burned biscuits that made England's scones look edible, and he was forced to inflict some minor punishment on the other.

And so, Alfred was in a great mood that morning while Ivan was content, sipping at his coffee on their limo ride to LAX. They'd already done it in a limo, thankfully, so Alfred wasn't about to suggest anything. However, once on board the plane, Alfred offered Ivan entrance to a rather exclusive club that he could not refuse.

A few hours passed and they were in D.C., a limo waiting on the tarmac—Ivan was quick to chastise the younger nation's always ostentatious travel plans. Alfred only laughed, gifting Ivan with one of his usual witticisms, something along the lines of "if you got it, flaunt it". He did confess however that his new boss had a tighter grip on the purse strings—he was appalled that he may have to rent out his private jet to humans, of all things—and so he was forced to go about life in a bit more frugal a manner. Still, he had his own assets and investments that were centuries old, leaving him with a healthy enough nest egg.

The first day of their half-week in D.C. they spent shopping and eating out at extravagant restaurants, Alfred completely disregarding his boss's numerous pleas to conduct himself in a more "relatable" manner.

He scoffed with each call, Ivan quick to reassure him when his mood grew darker. The pair were dressed in completely new suits, custom made for them on Alfred's tab. Ivan much preferred his usual ensemble, but he admired the way Alfred looked in his suit and loved the way Alfred looked _at_ him so hungrily even more, so he gave in to the younger's requests. Alfred was ranting over their lavish picnic lunch—he'd gone all out, even serenading Ivan with some handwritten and tacky but adorable song before popping some champagne.

"I just don't understand. I like my new boss, don't get me wrong. He has great ideas and really wants to help people. But what right does he have to tell me how to spend my hard-earned money? If I wanna blow it buying Powerball tickets, then so be it. If I wanna invest it, then let me! Plus, he's being a real hard-ass about my gun collection. I understand that he doesn't want my citizens able to get their hands on assault weapons or any guns at all if they're mentally imbalanced, but that shouldn't apply to me! I'll always be crazy, and I also want all my guns."

"Why?"

"Well, they're fun to shoot! I hunt occasionally, and if zombies attack, I need to be ready. Sure, the Pentagon's got a plan and all, but in my opinion it's all politics and no action so I need to be the hero. Plus I need my jet so I can fly the two of us to Siberia—zombies hate the cold, plus I can't let my sweet meat morsel Ivan become an undead nation!"

Ivan ignored the hypothetical scenario. "I'm sorry you are disagreeing with him. But, I assume you take your own advice and just do your own thing, da?"

"Of course. But, my stubbornness doesn't help him win favor with the people. Well, he'll have to compromise a bit if he wants to win me to his side."

Ivan nodded. "You're capitalism is showing."

"I'm assuming you mean that as an insult."

He shrugged. "I mean it in as literal a way as possible. You do like to spend money that you earned. It is fine, you stimulate your economy in this way. But, is it that important? You don't have to impress me if that's your goal. I don't need so many dates and gifts."

Alfred raised a brow, "Impress you? I'm not trying to impress, per se. I just want to make you happy. See, I love gifts, I love words."

"I've noticed," Ivan said, remembering the numerous trinkets and kind words Alfred was so quick to bestow on him.

"See, it's a Love Languages thing. Have you heard of it?"

"I think my sister tricked me into taking it so she could better win my affection."

"I'm a huge words guy, followed closely by gifts. Perhaps it's the shallowness, or the insecurity, but it means the world to me when I hear someone express why they care about me. Or when they care enough to buy something when they see it on the off chance I might like it." He leaned against Ivan's shoulder. "I guess my default is to assume other people like the same thing. I'm sorry if my efforts aren't the most effective for you."

"I do like presents, and even though your fluffy words embarrass me, they are sweet. But, I much prefer just getting to spend time with you. Even if we're just sitting alone at home, not speaking. It is warm, it is nice."

"I see."

"I also like when you do things for me, like when you arranged the UPC thing or undermined Turkey for me."

Alfred smiled. "Okay. I get it now. Well, it'll make my boss happy that you're fine with pizza dinners and fewer gifts."

He spun around, positioning himself on Ivan's lap. The pair kissed, losing themselves completely. By the time they came back to earth, their champagne had stopped bubbling, and their sandwiches were cold. Alfred packed up the food and his guitar, leading Ivan back to his car. They spent the rest of the day in Alfred's home, playing video games with Tony and washing his whale—and that's not a euphemism for anything. Alfred didn't spend one more cent on dinner reservations or limo rides for the rest of the week.

* * *

"As you can see," Alfred clicked the video clip on his presentation, starting the simulation he had rendered the night before. "Using my advanced space laser technology in combination with appropriately placed micro-detonations on the surface, in only ten years, I can completely reshape the moon into a huge heart, with a cute little, 'Alfred loves Ivan' written in the center."

It was the third day of the conference, and by then news of the newest couple had spread. Many nations were afraid to say the least. They were surprised with how outgoing they were with their affection. In Ivan's presentation the day before, he had offered some crazy plan to stop the rotation of the Earth so that the sun could always "shine and never set on our love". Such an outward show was unheard of. Most nations preferred to be discrete about who they were screwing, but these two it seemed were trying to outdo each other with lovey-dovey acts.

To make things weirder, they used such human sentiments as hand-holding, nose-rubbing, and pet names. It would really be less offensive if they just got caught fucking on the table, or something.

Belarus of course was livid, but Ukraine found her voice for once and chided her young sister for endeavoring to deny Ivan his happiness, single-handedly stopping all of her intricate plans of sabotage.

Where they weren't afraid or sickened, the other nations were envious. How had two completely emotionally inept and obtuse nations found such happiness in each other? Even if it didn't last, their present mood had to count for something, some positive benefit.

France had tried to no avail to get England's attention during the summit, but he was usually found in the company of Japan. It was no big deal, as he had a lot of comforting to give his old friend Spain. Sometime after Valentine's Day, on which Antonio had once again failed to seduce Romano to his side, Lovino had been swept up by Gilbert, of all people.

Canada glared at the Prussian—he'd been so passionate on Valentine's Day, asking Matthew to date him. Of course, he'd said no, what kind of nation dated? Prussia had stormed off, still convinced that love was possible between nations after his phone call with America. He'd bumped into an equally upset Lovino in Munich, hiding where he knew Spain would never look for him. They spent the day fuming, and surprisingly their frustration didn't manifest in heated love making, but rather an amicable companionship. They'd been inseparable ever since.

Mexico was a good friend to Canada, though the northern nation insisted he needed no comfort. He wasn't upset that Prussia had dumped him for Romano, he was just more annoyed than anything. They had had a good thing going until the idiot decided to bring in feelings. Mexico patted his back sympathetically, hopeful for what the night would bring. Hey, he wasn't above rebound sex, though if he had his way maybe he would be above Canada later. He laughed to himself. He just hoped France or Netherlands were too distracted to notice how cute and angry the invisible nation looked.

Ivan was busy critiquing Alfred's presentation—"It should say, 'Ivan loves Alfred', instead, Fredka"—and Arthur gagged. He caught Japan's eye and rolled his, causing the smaller nation to giggle. Hungary of course was having a field day, eager for inside news from her fellow yaoi lover of his reinvigorated sex life.

The second bit of disturbing news was the formation of the UPC. The NATO members immediately saw the threat, but said nothing, even when America voiced his plans to phase out his monetary contributions. They knew it wouldn't be wise to go against four powerful nations. Then, right there America announced the application process, and ten nations immediately threw their names into the ring. The European nations were shocked by the sudden announcement and new contender in the west. America was an expert of monopolies, and they could only hope his new efforts wouldn't squash the smaller and less funded organizations.

Turkey shifted. Sure, he had been on thin ice within NATO, but perhaps this was good news for him. He could surely convince them that Russia had nefariously plotted to get Alfred on his side—perhaps with blackmail or something—and was planning a coup against the other world powers. He nodded to himself, which went unnoticed by all except Greece, his current bedmate, who only raised a brow before falling back asleep. He'd have to tell his boss about this as soon as possible, or else the desperate man may act rashly.

There was a hush over the room, broken only by Alfred's slight cry. He rushed to Ivan's side. Mid-sentence, the nation had frozen. Blood dripped from his nostril, then a deep gash appeared on his arm, evident from the red that oozed through his heavy coat.

"Ivan!" Alfred caught him before he fell forward, knocked out. He glanced around the room, desperate for help. Canada and Mexico were there, immediately followed by Ukraine and Belarus. "What the fuck happened?" He ripped at Ivan's sleeve to inspect the wound. What he'd thought was a cut was actually a large burn. He recognized the wound. "Japan, is this…"

The small nation had strolled over. He eyed the horrendous mark. "Hai. Radiation. But, it was not an attack. It is spreading more naturally."

Canada held his phone to Alfred. "There was an earthquake. Caused a nuclear plant failure."

"Where?"

"Quite a ways from any big cities. It's along the Yenisey River, somewhere." Matthew was far from familiar with the large nation's geography.

"Fuck," Alfred said simply. "All that radiation in the water…" He lifted Russia bridal style, evacuating him from the room. "Canada, call his boss. Mexico, call mine. Get the rest of the UPC in here and get to planning aid efforts."

"What?"

"One of our own has been hurt. Consider this our first act as a Commonwealth. We need to help Ivan."

Mexico was already dialing on his phone. "Ayayay, what a bother. Day one and we have to do work. You take care of your lover, States. Ah, hola Mr. President! We've got a bit of a situation here." With a nod, Alfred was gone, Ivan's sisters close on his tail.

Matthew pouted. "Why do I have to call the scary boss?" Mexico stuck his tongue out at him.

"Si, si. Canada is contacting him. Appears to be a natural disaster, so I don't see how he could blame the U.S."

Matthew placed the call, gulping while it rang. Finally, Russia's boss answered, already upset having already been told the news. The man began ranting in Russian, and Canada struggled to understand. Thankfully, they switched to English soon enough, and Canada explained that America was taking care of Russia and that the UPC would be sending aid soon.

The human faltered. He thanked them for the offer, but would not allow any foreigners near the site for fear of their safety. He only asked that Russia be kept safe in a clean environment while he healed. He hung up.

Mexico was still chatting with Alfred's boss, a kind man who he quite liked, until he saw Matthew's worried look. He excused himself then hung up, glancing at his friend with a question in his eye.

"What's wrong?"

"Russia's boss… he was rather odd. He'll accept aid as long as none of us step foot near the place. It's a bit suspicious…"

"Ay, why complain? Did you want to become mutated?"

"We have suits for that kind of thing…"

"I know, I know. Maybe he's just panicking. I'm sure it's a scary thing to deal with. Give it a day. In the meanwhile," he glanced about the room, the prospective members of the UPC were all already present. "Let's get this meeting started. Argentina quite hitting Chile! We've got some serious shit to take care of!"

"Yes sir!" they responded.

* * *

 **a/n: Wah i can't believe i hurt my baby Ivan i'm terrible! forgive me! anyway, sorry for the delay in updating. midterms are upon us. In better news the weather here is quite nice! we've been above freezing, i'm pumped! perhaps the groundhog is telling the truth for once!**

 **i was listening to Adele which inspired the Arthur bits. Think "When we were young" and "hello". also, a few other songs have been speaking to me lately when i write. Namely, Faded by Alan Walker (too bad he's Norwegian so irrelevant in my story-jk,love Norway), YOUTH (damn he's australian), 7 years (Danish, drat-hey maybe he and norway can have a songfic idk idk the songs aren't super related), and Stressed Out (yay they're american). Give em a listen. Don't worry, though, they have nothing to do with the story really, except for the adele ones. also, a deceptively happy beat for a sorta sad song that i'm kinda taking as FrUK or USUK: Never Forget You by Zara Larsson (swedish!) and MNEK (hey he's british yay it works!).**

 **Also, if you care, i will be in Russia for two weeks this summer! I care a lot, actually, i'm so excited! i left out my rusame love on my study abroad app, don't worry. i was surprised i got in, my resume is mad gay, haha! hmu with travel tips. my older sister spent a semester working in Moscow, but her only advice was: "bring empty bags so you can bring me back alcohol and candy" and "bribe your dorm guards with cigarettes, everyone smokes there" and "when are you gonna tell our parents" and "how the hell can you afford this?". Smh stop being practical sis!**

 **Also, 5 love languages ftw! If you haven't gathered, i base Alfred off of myself, and words of affirmation and then gifts are my top langs! I imagine Ivan would be a bit different!**

 **Also, i've got two other rusame things going if you're looking for something else to read. They're AUs, though, so i understand if you're not into that. i honestly used to hate AUs, but they're actually really fun to write and read! who knew? haha a lot of people did! if you're down for frozentalia or pottertalia check them out!**

 **also (x4) i have no idea what other couples i'll end this story with. tbh i'm kinda going for the whole russia and america are the exception to the rule thing. But, who knows, it looks like they're inspiring others already! yay lurv.**


	20. Chapter 20

When Ivan awoke, he was surprised to find himself alone. His wounds were wrapped though the drenched bandages implied that he was still bleeding. Flexing his hand stretched the healing skin and he winced at the pain. He sat up in the large bed, recognizing it as Alfred's. The room was Alfred's master bedroom in his Virginia estate.

His phone had been left on the nightstand, plugged in and flashing incessantly with notifications, all from his boss and other nations. He sent the man a quick update as to his condition, though it seemed that he was more informed about how Russia should be feeling than the nation himself was.

After a few minutes of catching up on the news surrounding the radioactive fallout, there was a loud knock on the door. Before he could so much as glance up, Alfred entered his room, followed by his quiet twin.

"Ah, Fredka, you are back so early!" Ivan smiled.

Alfred was at Ivan's side in seconds, grabbing his free hand in his while sitting on the bed. He was glad Russia was in good enough spirits to smile. "Sorry, my meeting finished early. Why, were you hoping to meet with your mistress or something?" he also smiled.

"Da, you caught me."

Alfred brought his forehead to Ivan's, nuzzling his nose with his slightly. "If you ever cheated on me, I would make you watch as I killed them. And then I'd kill you."

Ivan grinned. "I'd love to see that," despite his low energy, he was more than capable of showing his lover proper affection. He joined their lips and within seconds they fell into their normal routine, kissing and feeling each other. Alfred was careful to mind Ivan's injuries, and he was proud that Russia's strength was such that he was still awake and functioning at the moment.

America pulled away, panting slightly. "Interesting that you'd say that, you voyeur." Russia kissed at the blond's neck. He moaned.

"Jesus Christ, please stop right now!" Matthew had wanted to give the two the opportunity to reunite in whatever romantic fashion they chose, but the shameless couple seemed intent on ravishing each other right then and there. He bemoaned his invisibility.

"Oh, hello Canada!" Russia beamed. "How long have you been there?"

The northern nation was red. "The whole damn time. Alfred!"

"Yo!" the young nation ceased nibbling on Ivan's ear.

"Stop kissing Ivan for two seconds, we need to talk to him. And must you really be straddling him right now? He's injured."

"He's a big boy, Mattie, he can handle it." He smirked. "And only getting bigger!" he whispered the last bit, but of course Matthew heard it.

"Da, I am not as ill as you seem to think," Russia at least had the manners to blush at Alfred's public display.

"Either way, we need to talk about our aid efforts. Russia, you've been out for about twenty hours, did you know that?"

"I gathered as much from my phone. I—" He froze, face losing all its color.

"Ivan? What's wrong?" Alfred asked, arms still wrapped around the Russian's neck. Ivan tried to push him off his lap, but his weakened state and Alfred's immense strength would not allow it.

With a horrible retching sound, Ivan threw up on Alfred's chest. The American stared dumbly.

"Hola amigos! I've got food for the fat-asses!" Mexico sauntered into the room, bearing bags of McDonald's. The smell of food renewed Ivan's stomach for a second round of vomit, striking Alfred once more who was still too shocked to move. "Ay, Dios mio! Is this some kind of sick porno? Matthew, why are you watching? What is going on?"

Alfred finally reacted, sliding off on Ivan's lap. "Dude, not cool."

"I am sorry, I—" he made another heaving sound, though his stomach was empty. Alfred handed him a trash can anyway.

"It's okay. Radiation poisoning, it'll do that to you. You've helped me with throwing up too, though I at least never hit you," he joked.

Mexico rolled his eyes, setting the food out in the hall before returning with several towels. "No need to lie, I know you sexual deviants of the north are into some weird shit."

Alfred blushed. "This is a little much, even for me. I'm hardly a kinky person. I was raised by England, after all." He grabbed an offered towel, moving to wipe up Ivan's face. He carefully removed the blankets and his own clothes.

"Hey, Canada, you alive?" Mexico waved his hand in front of Matthew's blank face. "Don't tell me you're into barf?"

He blushed. "Of course not! It's just a bit unsettling. These two went from being turned on by murder to dry-humping each other to vomiting in seconds and I was a little lost is all."

Alfred had succeeded in completely disrobing, throwing his clothes in a pile on the soiled blanket. His brother had seen him naked plenty of times before, but he was surprised to see that Alfred was more cut than before. He narrowed his eyes.

"Why the hell are you jacked?" he asked.

Mexico whistled, watching as Alfred attempted to remove Ivan's vomit-covered shirt. "Can't you just appreciate the view, Canada?"

"You've been working out, which means your military is preparing for something. What's up?"

"You know my boss, he's been cutting military spending!" Ivan's shirt was now on the floor as well.

"Doesn't mean you're not training for anything."

"It's nothing to worry about. You know I'd tell you guys if it was."

Matthew continued to glare, meeting his brother's defiant gaze. He broke away first, however, giving in on seeing that Alfred wasn't budging on the matter.

"Fine, whatever. Anyway, about the aid. Here's a summary." He withdrew two pieces of paper, handing one to Alfred and one to Ivan.

Alfred had succeeded in removing all of Ivan's clothes, and Matthew averted his eyes.

"Damn, and here I thought Ivan had lucked out!" Juan laughed, still shamelessly checking out his northern neighbor but not-so-discretely shifting his attention to Ivan. "It's not fair, I say!"

Ivan blushed. "Stop being so crude."

Alfred glared. "Quit ogling my boyfriend before I castrate you." Mexico gave a small squeak at the look while Alfred glanced over the papers. His eyebrows furrowed. "Canada and Mexico, can you two give Ivan and me some privacy?"

"Oui, sure thing," Matthew picked up clothes that had been gathered in a satchel of sorts. "Let's go, Juan."

"But they're so pretty! Ow!" Matthew grabbed Juan's arm harshly and tugged him out of the room, closing the door behind them.

"Ivan," Alfred began seriously. "Why isn't your boss letting my people in? He knows we have suits to protect ourselves. Seismic info shows that it was an accident, why's he acting sketch?"

Ivan sighed. "Alfred, I'm sorry. I will tell you, but you mustn't be angry with me."

"I won't," he promised.

"The earthquake did happen, I have the sore joints to prove it. But the site wasn't a nuclear energy plant. It was a testing facility."

"For?" Alfred asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Weapons."

The younger nation's fists were clenched. Despite his nakedness, his body still proved to be an intimidating sight. Ivan was not cowed. "Why? I thought our bosses agreed on this. We have plans toward disarmament."

"You know both our militaries would never truly do it." He chuckled bitterly. "I think you're just more upset by the fact that you didn't know about it."

Alfred was quickly in Ivan's face. "I don't give a fuck about that. I don't even give a fuck that you've been developing more weapons of mass destruction. What I care about is that you're hurt right now, got it?"

Ivan nodded. Alfred crashed their lips together, the pair resuming their previous embrace. Alfred was the first to pull away.

"Did the quake hit anything else?"

"Nyet, but you know how damaging it will be. Maybe not immediately, but it's so close to the river. Many people are downstream."

Alfred nodded. "I'll see to the evacuation, don't worry. Please, can you tell your boss to let me in, at least? Not my people, just me?"

"I… I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you. You need to let me help you, okay? We'll make it through this."

"Da, we will."

"Is this your only one?" Ivan stared. "That's fine, I don't care. But, this quake, it wasn't on a fault line. I'm a bit worried. The seismic reports I saw… they looked familiar. What do you know about that facility?"

"Not much, I never visited."

"Hm, alright," he paused. The silence was tense, but it was broken by Ivan's phone.

"My boss."

"Go ahead, I don't mind."

Ivan answered, immediately assaulted with questions and ramblings. His boss was worried, worried that his "nosy friends" would stumble upon the truth. He sat by, not commenting on anything.

"Can I talk to him?" Alfred asked. Ivan passed the phone and Alfred slipped into Russian easily. " _Hello sir. Yes, he's fine. We're taking care of him. I'd be much better equipped to do so if you let me in. I know what the station was for, there's no need to hide. I'm willing to keep it between us if you let me in. Yes. Just me. I need to look into some things. Will do. Thank you."_ Alfred tossed Ivan the phone after the President, slightly put-out but agreeable at least, hung up.

"What did he say?" Ivan asked.

"He agreed. I'll have some intense security detail, and no one else can know that I'm going in on my own, but it'll work out."

"Why must you go?"

"I need to make sure that this was an accident."

Ivan raised a brow. "Of course it was. Man-made earthquakes are the things of science fiction. It was a natural disaster, you cannot deny it."

"I know the earthquake was real. But the damage seems a bit much. I'm still slightly suspicious."

"You're being foolish, it—" Ivan groaned in pain, hunching over in the bed.

"Fuck, what happened? Aftershock?" A circular burn appeared on Ivan's stomach. He wheezed.

"Nyet, no earthquake. A bomb at another facility."

"Fuck!" Alfred gave Ivan his hand, whose grip was bone-crushing as he felt the immense pain. "Who the hell is doing this?"

"I do not know, Fredka." The pain was so intense that Ivan was growing faint. There were black spots in his vision.

"Ivan! Stay with me here!"

Ivan passed out.

"Shit!" Alfred cried out. Matthew and Juan burst into the room.

"Alfred! I just saw the news. There's been another meltdown. Russian authorities are saying it's aftershock."

Alfred gave one last squeeze to Ivan's hand. The burn on his stomach was growing, blistering within seconds of appearing. "I'm going to him. Can you guys watch over him? Keep doing what you're doing with the aid, but keep it between us that I'm leaving, okay? If anyone asks I'm at his side. Not even his sisters can visit. No one but us and our bosses can enter this house, got it?"

Matthew nodded. "Of course. But, what can you do there? How will it help him?"

"I need to get a better idea of what his exact injuries are on the ground. I'll be back in a few days, hopefully." He withdrew his phone, dialing the local airstrip so they could ready his plane. Before Matthew could respond, he was gone from his home, leaving his neighbors behind to take care of Ivan.

In a matter of hours he was at a small airport in Russia. Ivan's boss was there to meet him, nodding curtly before handing him off to the team of guards. They escorted him to the site, keeping back themselves from the radiation zone.

Alfred himself was safe to go through. The radiation affected him, of course, but not nearly as much as it would if it was in his land. He was able to pass through the tainted land, barely aware of the difference other than the heat and haze.

The first facility didn't show any signs of foul play. The main office had been protected behind blast proof walls and so the files within were intact. Alfred frowned at the foolish plans of the plant. While it wasn't anywhere near a fault line, the high rate of fracking nearby and dumping waste water in the mutilated ground probably contributed to the settling of the land. Such things had happened in his own land, and he was surprised that this plant was following such a design when it was well-documented as being poor.

The fracking had been happening for a while of course, which in and of itself wasn't a problem. It was the combination with the lazy wastewater treatment that caused the damage. The files indicated that the water had only recently been redirected. The past six months had also seen a massive increase in the volume of the waste, almost quadruple what the liquid waste had been in the past. This change coincided with the hiring of a new plant manager, a name that Alfred didn't recognize as any agent. He had died in the initial collapse, just before the blast.

The second stop gave him more clues. It was clear that a bomb had been planted. Maps showed that the induced fault line from the first facility would have extended to the second location had it grown along the fracking paths, but it had been stopped by the fates—well, Alfred figured there was a massive rock formation preventing the fracture from spreading. Still, the second plant was in worse shape than the first. He strolled the damaged grounds, immediately recognizing the ballistic evidence.

He knew those marks, knew the after-effects of this weapon. After all, he had invented it.

While visiting the second site, he received news of a third and fourth plant failure. He confirmed those two as being along the same false fault line, though they had fallen from the same strange attack as the second. He didn't even have to go to those spots to confirm what he knew.

The bomb his people had made told him everything he needed to know. He knew which country he'd leaked those plans to. He knew who was behind the attacks.

Without explaining the situation to Ivan's boss, Alfred flew himself back to D.C. The other nations were still holding the conference despite the absence of the host.

They were busy discussing NATO's relevancy in the worlds—much to the distaste of the non-members—when Alfred burst in. He looked a mess, hair singed and eyes red from his trek through the wastelands. England stood.

"Bloody hell, Alfred, where've you been? Are you alright? Is Russia?"

Alfred ignored him, immediately striding to Japan. He towered over the smaller nation.

"America?" he asked. "Is everything okay?"

"You have three seconds to tell me why I shouldn't kill you right now."

"What? I don't understand!" Alfred held out a sturdy, metal baseball bat. He tapped it against his shoulder.

"One…."

England and Greece moved to protect Kiku by grabbing America's arms, but he threw them off easily.

"America! Stop this! What's happening?" England cried out.

"Please, America, this is a misunderstanding. I didn't do anything!"

"Two…"

Japan fell on his knees, seeing in his old friend's eye the same mad look as he'd had years before. When America exacted his revenge in World War II.

"B-53 X-Alpha, Japan. Also known as Living Hell-Fire." he spat. The younger nation started.

"What do you..?" He gulped when America raised his bat.

"I designed it years back. A bomb that releases enough heat and energy it's capable of burning through a building's steel infrastructure. When planted properly, it can tear through a skyscraper in seconds flat. Released in a factory or plant with flammable chemicals, it looks like Lucifer's inferno given life on earth." He brought the bat down, a sickening crack resounding through the hall as Japan's femur was broken. Everyone stared, dumbstruck. Japan cried out. "You were the one I leaked these plans to! You were the one who used it to attack Russia!"

"I swear I didn't!" Japan stood weakly, hopping back. He withdrew his katana but refused to raise it against America. "I admit my intel got the plans, but I never used it. I'd never attack Russia, never threaten you."

Greece lunged at America, tackling the other to the ground. With a growl and roll, Alfred was free, glaring madly at the room who eyed him with fear. He spun around, waving his bat frantically. The other nations were terrified, all but one.

Turkey smirked.

Alfred's bat met his face with a crunch, and the older nation fell. Alfred was on him in seconds, punching relentlessly at the battered face.

Turkey laughed. "How priceless!" Alfred's fist froze mid-swing. "Don't blame poor Kiku. It's not his fault. I took the plans from him last time I was in his house. It wasn't hard at all. What was hard was planting those bombs." He turned to the room. "What our dear America failed to mention was that those plants that are hurting Russia so bad were weapons-testing facilities." Several nations gasped. "My thoughts exactly. I've got proof. I was doing the world a public service in ridding Russia of his toys. He's unstable, still set on starting World War III, but now he's gotten America on his side. The two of them are clearly not above using violence against their own allies."

"Turkey, why would you do this?" Japan asked.

"You all left me no choice! Especially you, America," he spat the name.

Alfred glared. "I told you to call me the United…" he punched Turkey's face. "States..." Another punch. "of…" Another one. "America!"

"États-Unis, perhaps you should stop. This much damage to another personification is usually a declaration of war," France reminded.

He pushed himself off of a heavily bleeding Turkey. "You're a real idiot, you know. Did you really think you'd get away with this?"

He shrugged. "It doesn't matter that I got caught, because that means Russia's caught too. The world won't be able to turn a blind eye to what he's been doing behind closed doors. Did you know?" he asked America.

"I didn't. It makes no difference to me."

"Of course not, seeing as he won't use them against you. Hell, he'll probably use them on whoever you ask him to!"

"You're pissing me off," he noted. "God, you're really screwed, you know that? He'll kill you."

"NATO won't allow it. Not without him causing an all-out war."

America met the eyes of the other nations. They all turned away from his gaze. "No one wants a war but you. And if there is one, so be it. I'm ready for it."

"U.S…" Canada was at his brother's side. He placed his hand over the other's, gently urging him to let go of his blood-stained bat. "Let's go see Ivan, okay? You can't just go attacking people without consulting your boss."

Mexico was there, too. "Si, and you should consult our bosses too, since we're allies. I'm sure Russia's boss will take care of things with Turkey. You shouldn't soil your hands with it."

"I don't give a fuck about my hands. If I didn't know that Ivan would want to skin Turkey himself I'd kill him right here and now," his glare was steady.

"Jesus Christ, you're demented," Mexico chuckled. "Come along, let's go check on your lover."

* * *

Ivan was in worse condition than he had been when Alfred left him. The later plant failures churned his stomach and almost half of his body was covered in slowly-spreading burns. He was even losing hair in random patches. He knew that he looked horrible, he'd seen Japan after Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Nuclear radiation was one of the ugliest and most painful things a nation could deal with.

There was a click and the door opened, revealing a slightly red American. Ivan raised his brow at the sight.

"Is that blood?"

"It is."

"You look good in red," he smiled weakly.

Alfred grinned. "Of course you'd say that, commie," he joked. He sat at Ivan's side. "I know who did this to you."

"I read some reports. People know the plants weren't for energy. Who knew? Who leaked it?"

"Turkey. He had a team on the inside who made the conditions of the land unstable. He'd hoped to create a fault line taking out all the plants in the area, but it failed. The bombs were a backup."

"How'd you know?"

"Records. Plus, the bombs were mine. Japan's agents took the plans but Turkey took them from him."

"I should've known. You always were talented at creating weapons. I'd never felt such a heat before," he shivered on remembering the intensity of the fire that singed his lands.

"I'm sorry, I was stupid. I figured Japan would be the last to use it, and I was right about that. But, his own secrets weren't so well-guarded.

Russia sighed, settling into his pillows. "Once I am healed, I will gut Turkey before his people. They will watch as his boss is forced to consume his entrails."

"Graphic. You can do whatever you want with him, babe. I'll back you up on it."

Russia nodded. "I hope you didn't hurt him too badly."

"Just a few punches. Didn't even break any bones! Well, the nose maybe, but that's cartilage. Oh shit, I guess I broke Japan's leg. Oopsies," he laughed, shrugging.

"Good, because he's mine. He'd be wise to stay out of my sight for the next few years."

America was silent for a few moments.

"What are you thinking, Fredka?"

"Part of me is confused about all this. Why would Turkey do this? His goal was for others to stop trusting you, but surely with the formation of the UPC he'd realize how idiotic it'd be to attack you right now. Unless he has other allies."

"I also do not think he is smart enough to have planned all this. Unfortunately, there are many potential co-conspirators. A lot of people don't like me."

Alfred sighed. "What a pain. I really don't want World War III, to be honest. Even if I'd love nothing more than to nuke the shit out of him."

"Da, I agree. We have warred too much lately. You shouldn't worry yourself with hurting him anymore. If anyone pushes the button, it'll be me."

He frowned. "I don't want people hating you more. He's created all this chaos, I bet it would really piss him off if you turned the other cheek. Sure, you can get some revenge, but not enough that NATO calls for any trials, okay?"

"Fine. I too believe peace is best. My people are also a bit upset with me having those testing centers, so they're not calling for Turkey's blood."

Alfred gave his hand a slight squeeze. Ivan yawned. "Mind if I sleep with you?"

"Of course not, but mind the wounds. No touching."

He pouted. "What's the point of us dating then?"

"The stimulating conversation, obviously." Alfred hummed, reclining beside his lover. "You're still covered in his blood."

"Jealous?" he smirked.

"Obviously," he yawned the word. "Fredka?"

"Yeah?"

"Before I die, can I ask you a question?"

Alfred chuckled. "You're not about to die, idiot, but sure."

"What is your middle name?"

He laughed, a hearty and welcome noise. "Really? That's the last thing you ask before you breathe your last?"

"Da."

"Alright. Well, it depends."

Ivan blinked. "Bullshit."

"No, really! It changes whenever I want. Sometimes it's 'Freedom'. Sometimes 'Fucker'. It's been 'Franklin' and 'Fyodor' and 'Fiona' and 'Farquad'. Also for a time it was 'Formerly Known as the Colonies'."

Ivan sighed. "You're not serious, are you? 'Fyodor'?"

"Hey, I like him! And I am!"

"What is it right now?"

"'Fergalicious'."

"I see."

"Growing up, England would usually… oh god, I've never told anyone this."

Ivan was intrigued. "What?"

"Alfred Fay Jones is what he'd call me. God, it's embarrassing. Naming me after his weird-ass imaginary fairy friends."

Ivan laughed. "Really? I understand why you'd never tell anyone this."

"Shut up. That's why I never use Fay. It's so not heroic! Or intimidating!"

Russia nodded. "Fay, can you do that thing I like?"

"Which thing?"

"With your mouth?"

Alfred perked up slightly. "I thought you were tired!"

"I mean the other thing, the one you struggle so much with."

"Huh?" he tilted his head, looking very much like a confused puppy. Realization struck him and he pouted. "Oh, you don't mean a blow job, you just want to me shut my trap!"

"Da!" Ivan pet his boyfriend's head affectionately.

"Jerk," Alfred shut his eyes, throwing an arm around Ivan's waist. He was careful to keep his touches light.

"I love you, Fredka," Ivan placed a soft kiss to Alfred's cheek.

The younger nation kept his mouth shut, humming a four beat response.

* * *

Russia wasn't able to attend the rest of the meetings, but America was quick to fill him in each day of the happenings. Turkey was in hot water with NATO, but they weren't completely against his actions. Most of them wanted to see Russia punished before him. There was a clear divide among the nations with a majority being against Russia. America of course led the minority camp of supporters, with most of the nations being those in or aspiring to be in the UPC and nations who demanded peace.

America may have been mad, he may have been twisted. Part of him wasn't opposed to another war—hell, he was back-to-back champ of the World Wars, after all. But, he knew the world didn't need such a power struggle at the moment. Perhaps he was biased since he was in a comfortable position in terms of power and economy, but he knew it'd be best to let everyone use the relatively peaceful period to fix themselves and rise in strength. His boss had recently been pulling back in the Middle East as well, placing less strain on the nations in the area and allowing them freedom to develop how they may. Even when some asked for his help, he had started taking on the role of a neutral advisor rather than supplier and enabler of war.

He was a damaged nation. He thrived during war, as he was born from struggles. His growth came thanks to the labor of slaves and the slaughter of native peoples for their land. Despite all this, he yearned for peace. He genuinely thought it possible, and given his strength, he could convince people to bend to his will.

At the conclusion of the two weeks, the nations returned home. For a few weeks after, most stayed home, consulting with bosses or each other behind closed doors. It was tense, though America and Russia were more than used to such an air given their Cold War experiences.

Russia stayed in America's home while he healed. He was able to walk around the grounds, chatting with Tony or America's whale when the other was gone, which was often. He spoke with his boss almost daily who was frustrated with the happenings and the media coverage but begrudgingly appreciative of America's help. America's people were surprisingly on Russia's side, angry with the "radical Turkish religious military faction" that the blame had been placed on. They staged protests and showed their support by creating charities and sending aid in the form of food, water, and clothes. It was cute, he thought, their positive energy reminding him so much of his own American.

Most of America's travels brought him to Russia. He had formed a special team of scientists, most American but also a few from Japan and Canada, who were stationed near the radiated spots. They worked with local researchers to hasten the cleaning of the land. Russia wasn't sure exactly what they were doing, but he did know that he felt much better each time America was overseas.

When he asked America, the young nation would pout. "I swear, sometimes I think you never listen to me! I told all about my recent interests in bioremediation!"

Russia didn't recall the conversation.

"Recombinant organisms? Using them to clean up the waste organically? Ring a bell?"

"Nyet."

He sighed. "What will I do with you? You're clearly losing your memory in your old age!" Ivan laughed.

His burns had receded after a year, but he was far from healed. The internal damage would take many more years to heal—he knew Japan still got sick on occasions even decades after the bombs. The person who helped him the most was General Winter, whose touch soothed both his land and the body of his burns. America was understandably wary of the figure who seemed to only ever bring pain to Russia, but Ivan assured him that the man meant no harm. He himself was slightly worried that the General would want something in return, but he never asked. He only glared at the sunny Alfred while he did his work, but never acted to destroy Ivan's happiness.

Russia finally returned to his home, surprised to see that the tragedy had strengthened the will of his people. They had better impressions of Americans, happy that the Western nation was on their side once again. He was delighted to encounter a few Mexican tourists and quick to offer them directions when they asked; he made it a personal goal to brush up on his Spanish, as he knew with the new acceptances to the UPC, Mexico wouldn't be the only southern American country to visit him.

World War III was no longer on the horizon, although the ever-important World Cup was. Fancy new stadiums were built in his land, far from the radiation zone, and he was excited for the influx in tourists. Hosting such events was always taxing on the economy, and he was nervous. After the Olympics in Sochi, he wanted to make a better impression. He was no weakling, and no attacks would set him back too much. America had offered to take the responsibility off his shoulders and host in his land, but Russia refused.

The host nation managed to get out of group play, but that was the end of his team's tournament journey. They'd actually ended up facing the U.S., keeping a tie until halftime where after they were thoroughly pummeled. Russia was moody all night, but America only laughed at his boyfriend, too competitive to offer his condolences when he was so happy.

When America finally lost in PKs against an underdog, Russia refused to comfort him as a slight bit of revenge.

All was quiet and peaceful, both on the eastern and western fronts. Sure, both nations made big mistakes, be they political or personal. Alfred would dig too deep, reopening recent wounds as he was a natural talker while America would pass laws that made the rest of the civilized world roll their eyes. Alfred had a hard time shutting up, even in professional and public settings, while Ivan struggled to voice his love for the other enough. Ivan was also hesitant to trust any nation, and when Russia found out his old friend China had funded Turkey's attack on him to get back at America—France had confessed that he hadn't leaked the videos—he had gone on a bit of a rampage, the repercussions of which America was still dealing with, ensuring that other nations wouldn't declare war on Russia or try him for his crimes. Such a task was easy for the cunning nation, whose words allowed him to weasel his way out of most punishments. The only nation who ever stood up to and resisted the charm was Russia, though given America's persistence, his resolve was usually worn down after a day or so.

America wasn't the only one with his charm. Whenever Russia made a mistake—how was he to know that those troops near the border weren't actually in his land?—all Ivan had to do was beg forgiveness from an annoyed American with his child-like eyes. The key was to say something along the lines of "you'd be my hero if you helped me cover this up" in order to fully win Alfred over.

Their relationship brought about a change in many other nations as well. Nations were shacking up with one another, and not just for sex or alliances. Prussia and Romano had been together for two years by the time America and Russia celebrated their fourth anniversary—another election period that resulted in much less sickness as Alfred's boss merely transitioned to his second term. England had gotten over America and allowed himself to love another, finally admitting to himself that maybe the old Frog wasn't that bad a man if he had waited so long for England. With Turkey still struggling economically, Greece's boss forced them to part. He didn't mind too much, however, as he still felt a pull to the Eastern island nation. His and Japan's reunion was sweet and the ensuing relationship even more so.

A very surprising development was the union of Mexico and Canada, something Alfred was quick to tease the two about. Mexico had plenty of dating experience with Alfred's states and various invaders whereas Matthew was obviously clueless about monogamy. Mexico was the perfect teacher. To his south, Chile and Argentina were almost living in each other's houses, rivals in futbol and partners in love it seemed.

Everyone took turns improving and falling back a few steps. America still had problems with shootings and high incarceration rates while Russia had a temper that couldn't be quelled and denied certain rights to his population in favor of maintaining some semblance of control.

But they were there for each other in the end—well, not The End, mind you. Tony made sure that the foolish humans didn't bring that about prematurely. He was happy that his plan had succeeded, that he'd saved the nations from nuclear annihilation by uniting Russia and America. In addition, he'd brought his two closest friends the utmost happiness with the union. Of course, his original intent was to keep the meat bags from being tainted before subjugation to his people: irradiated flesh was far from appetizing. He'd manage to convince his people that taking the humans for dinner would be pointless, and so they left. He stayed behind, spending the rest of his immortality in the presence of the lesser beings. Still, it was hard to think of them as lesser when he saw the love they could bring, especially the love between former enemies and rivals.

He sent his last transmission to his family members before they left for their home planet. America was calling for him from the backyard where he was hosting an extravagant birthday party—America's boss begged him to keep it under budget, but the stubborn American found joy in disobeying the grandfatherly figure. Tony smiled, proud of his work and thanking the Fates that he had found the bubbly American who had in turn been saved by and saved Russia. Surprisingly, their combined violent tendencies manifested in less bloodshed, not more. Sure, some people resisted the relationship, older generations who were still bitter from the war; but, their voices were fading in favor of those in support, as the two nations had no intentions of parting ever again. The Earth seemed to smile with him, finally hopeful for its future.

~FIN~

* * *

 **A/N: AH! Oh my word, i was writing and all of a sudden it became the finale chapter! I hope you all enjoyed this, with its cheesy, happy ending. I had a very fun time writing this. Like America, i'm naively optimistic, but even i have my doubts that anything like this would ever happen. Also, i have nothing against Turkey. I just needed a scapegoat who currently is at odds with Russia. I would hope the country would never have to go through anything like this!**

 **so, thanks to everyone who's stuck with me through this journey! now that it's done, i'll probs go back and edit things-place proper accent marks that i was too lazy to do the first time around as well as translations. if you liked it, loved it, hated it, think i'm an idiot or a bore, drop me a review, yo! i'd appreciate it. i have two other rusame AU things that i'm working on, but i'm sure now that this is done i'll think up some more canon situations.**

 **wah, i don't want this to end! but it must! probs won't do anything sequely, but maybe one-shots could happen? idk tho, don't get your hopes up!**

 **~Spicy**


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